Way Too Old School
by Mr. Wizard
Summary: It's time to go off to college, but who will take Ron? Maybe rejection isn't always a bad thing. After the Ball is over...
1. Chapter 1

WAY TOO OLD SCHOOL

1. Bigger is Better

**Howell Air Flight 326, we're ready for your approach. Please use Runway 7.**

"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Howell." Kim smiled at the jet's owner. The nattily dressed middle-aged man smiled and raised his glass.

"My pleasure, Kim. After all, I owe you for the way you got me out of that safe."

"Oh, it was nothing." She waved away the praise. "Anybody could have used a bobby pin, a battery and the content of a few snap pops to blow it open like that."

"Perhaps, but do you know how much they would have charged? I used Team Impossible once years ago…ruinous!"

"But this flight couldn't have been cheap."

"No, but it is deductible. Showing an underprivileged child such as you the wonders of Fair Harvard! There is no greater philanthropy."

"I'd hardly call myself underprivileged. Dad's a rocket scientist and Mom's a brain surgeon."

"And they're struggling by in the low six figures. Don't worry, child. Harvard's endowment is designed to assist such achievers as you overcome financial hardship."

Junior Kim would have been insulted. Senior Kim, college interviewing deciding literally where in the world to go Kim, found it amusing. She had seen so many faces, heard so many views. And Harvard was far more appealing than she had believed it could be. While it was not close to Middleton, it was not nearly as far away as London or Milan or Paris. Closer to home. Closer to Ron.

He was waiting at the airport. She had wanted him to come along, but she did not ask. How could she have him sit around in a hotel while she was wooed by yet another school that had flatly rejected him?

_He got more letters yesterday. All thin. In this case, you can be too thin. Why doesn't anyone see what I see? He's so much smarter than anyone, including me, gives him credit for. And as for the things that really count in life: courage, kindness, honesty, nobody's better._

She could see him looking down from the airport window as the jet taxied to a stop.

"Thanks again for the ride, Mr. Howell."

"You're welcome, my dear. Here's to seeing you at some future Alumni function. And should you decide against Fair Harvard, another branch of the family speaks highly of Rutgers."

She stepped down onto the tarmac and made her way toward the door. Ron was in the window, a stick in his hand. Rufus was on his shoulder. They pointed to the stick, she gave a shrug. Kim could read Ron's lips as he told Rufus 'Still undecided.'

"How's my Kimala?" He had a rose for her.

"Better now." Her eyes sparkled as she took it. She gave him a kiss. _He still makes that face. _Rufus chuckled at his friend's smitten expression.

"Hopeless."

"I like him like that." She grinned at the naked mole rat. "Been here long, Ron?"

"Maybe an hour."

_Avoiding the mail? It can't be bad news forever, can it?_ Failure was not something Kim understood that well. The National Cheerleading Competition was the main exception. _If I didn't believe in such things, I'd say we were jinxed that afternoon. _Ron, on the other hand, knew rejection in most of its forms. That he soldiered on was one of the things that had drawn her to him, even if it took almost losing the world for her to realize the attraction.

"Nice of your Mom and Dad to let me bring the Sloth to pick you up. With all the interviews you've had, it's cut into our time together."

"Mom's very understanding." Kim smiled as they made their way to the baggage claim. As it was a private flight, there was no waiting and everything was there. _A lot better than some of our rides. I hate the ones involving live freight. Having to pick feathers out of everything…_

They were on the road in no time. Kim drove, while Ron seemed lost in thought.

"You'll have to decide soon."

"I know. There are just so many great places! It would just help if…"

"I knew where I was going." Ron said glumly. "If I were going."

"Come on, Ron. You know what you always say…"

"Yeah, KP: the four hundredth time's the charm."

Rufus patted Ron's shoulder. Kim was glad she had to keep her eyes on the road. She did not want Ron to see her face. _He's depressed. It's getting worse and worse. It's late and soon regular admissions will be closed. I'll have to make my own decision soon._

_I know what he's worried about. It didn't take long for Brick to decide Bonnie was too immature for him after he went to college. And it's not just that. It doesn't matter who you are, no one thrives on nothing but rejection._

They pulled into the Possible driveway. No one was in the windows. Mrs. Dr. Possible made sure her daughter had a little more private time with her BFBF. She turned off the motor and looked at him with less than pure thoughts.

"How 'bout a little Ron-shine?"

Ten glorious minutes later Ron staggered out the car and carried Kim's luggage to the door. Kim set her hand on the knob, then turned and wrapped him up for another deep kiss. Rufus sighed.

"See you tomorrow, Ron?"

"Huh…oh, yeah, you bet."

He turned as Kim opened the door to her expectant parents. Ron felt it was better if they did not see the lip stick on his face or the mussed up hair. They had pulled his moped inside the garage. He pushed it out, and the blues returned as the garage door came down. It sounded like doom.

"Come on, Rufus. The mail's at home."

The ride home was short. Ron felt fortunate that except for the disastrous summer of Wannaweep he had never been very far from Kim. But that would soon end.

"Where's she going to be, Rufus? England? Italy? France? Australia? At least Harvard would be in America, but I won't be there, I won't be anywhere close! I'll be wherever the losers go when the smoking hot babe geniuses go to college. She'll find some BMOC and that'll be it for the Ronster."

The lights were out at home. The car was gone. He pulled the moped into the garage, carefully skirting the ceramic gnome. Rufus held his fingers up in the form of a cross.

"Doesn't work on gnomes, little dude. Besides, we're Jewish. How do we protect ourselves? Maybe I should ask Rabbi Katz next Shabbat"

A note was attached to the refrigerator.

**Ronald:**

**We had to take Hannah to Japan for some tests. We should be back in a few days. The mail is on the table. Take care of yourself and we'll all see you soon. We are so proud of you.**

**Love, **

**Mom**

Ron gritted his teeth at the last sentence. _Proud of what? _He started going through the pile of envelopes with his name on them. There were so many. After all, how many ribbons had his printer used up in the past weeks? And all so thin, with the same 'We have had an unusually large number of highly qualified applicants…wish you the best in your future education.' _Does one person write the letter for every school?_

"Can't be many more…"

Something peeked out of the bottom of the pile. It was not thin. He did not recognize the name on the envelope; the THICK envelope. His hands trembled as he opened it.

"Rufus!" He danced around in triumph, the naked mole rat joined in.

BiB

"It sounds like it was wonderful, Kimmie."

Kim nodded. "I really enjoyed it. It's not England, but it is another world. It would be so much closer than the other places I'm considering." She fell silent.

"It's Ron, isn't it?"

"Mom, everybody's rejected him! I know his grades aren't the best, but you'd think somebody would be interested. Even a small school needing a football player. He's depressed, Mom, I've never seen him this way before."

"Have you tried…"

"Pity kisses? Yes, Mom. Hundreds! I've gone through two tubes of red passion. They're beginning to lose their effectiveness. I don't know what I'm going to do next!"

Mrs. Dr. Possible gave her daughter an alarmed look.

"I don't mean that, Mom! I have to decide soon, but most would put me on another continent! Ron tries to act like it doesn't worry him, but I know he's afraid my eye will wander around a bunch of exotic hotties. I'm not worried, but I know how I would be if the situation was reversed.

"It would just help if he got one acceptance! He'd feel so much better. I…"

The phone rang. Mrs. Dr. Possible answered.

"Oh, hi, Ron. Yes, Kim's here." She handed her daughter the phone.

"Hi, Ron."

"KIM! IT'S A MIRACLE!"

"What, Ron?"

"I've got an interview!"

Kim broke into a huge smile. "An interview! Spankin'! Where, Ron?"

"I didn't recognize the name at first. A thousand applications will do that to you. I would have called sooner, but I was researching the school. It's perfect! Old, well respected, they might even want me to play football! And guess what…it's in Massachusetts! Essex County! It's not far from Cambridge! We could be college neighbors!"

"That's great, Ron!" Kim looked at her mother, the enthusiasm was infectious.

"What's the name of the school?"

"MISKATONIC UNIVERSITY!"

Kim Possible is the Property of Walt Disney Studios

Mr. Howell (a great-nephew in this case) comes to us courtesy of CBS Television. As for that other branch of the family, come on, you know who they are, and are the property of Columbia Pictures.

As for the works of HP Lovecraft, some are now public domain. There are many publishers, more than evil has names. I own none of it. Pity.


	2. First Class all the Way to the Grave

2. First Class all the Way to the Grave

"I'm sure glad your parents let you come with me, KP. It would have been a shame to waste a first class ticket and the hotel accommodations."

"No big, Ron. It's nice to go somewhere together with no superfreak waiting for us." She was impressed with Miskatonic so far. _They must be really serious. I've never heard of the school providing all of this unless sports are involve, and that's only a possibility here. Ron's excited. Why not? He's had nothing, and now he's treated like royalty._

"First class tickets from a first class school. It's all first class for Ron from now on. I'm all about Miskatonic!"

Rufus looked up from the arm rest he was lounging on. He pulled out a miniature Miskatonic pennant and waved it with vigor as he hummed the fight song. "Uh-huh, go Miski!"

"That's right, little dude. We're Miski Men!"

Miski

"So, you're having a good time, dear?"

"It's great, Mom." Kim enthused. "We're in the Senatorial Suite of the Arkham Arms. Daniel Webster stayed here when he was in town. And the restaurant was terrif! We ate off the tasting menu."

"I trust you didn't have the wine."

"Mom, this is a college town. They card."

"And you two have the best fake i.d.s available." Ann smiled at her own teenage memories.

"We only use those for missions, Mom."

"I'm surprised Ron didn't scout out the nearest Bueno Nacho for dinner."

"That's tomorrow. He wants to see how far it is from the freshman dorms."

"You know, Kim, he just may make a great college student. Speaking of which…"

"Mom, you aren't going to remind us to behave ourselves, are you? We have separate bed rooms and baths! Why, we usually have much closer accommodations! We've even shared sleeping blankets before…to keep warm, of course. I really shouldn't have told you that, should I?"

"That would be an affirmative." Ann was understanding but not happy. "It's just the different surroundings, the relaxed situation. It can create…"

"What, Mom?" Kim smiled at the sudden awkward silence on the other end of the line.

"Are you worried about what my Miski man may be up to?"

"No. I trust you two. Good night. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom. Tell Dad good night."

_Miski Man._

Ann pursed her lips as she hung up the phone. Ever since Ron's excited call, something had tugged at back of her mind. Something vague, uncertain, a memory all but lost. Now Kim had given it the needed prompt.

It was her senior year at Upperton University. Dr. Kincaid took his senior class out to celebrate the completion of their projects. Kincaid was an Eli of the old school, and stayed with his students well into the night, matching round for round. Sometime after midnight she heard him singing a little ditty to himself as he stared at his glass.

**Quiet Man from Miskatonic,**

**Are you insane,**

**Or just laconic?**

When she asked him, he said the song was 'Miski Man' and went on to discuss the strange legends surrounding some of the school's students and faculty. All schools have their tall tales and share of tragedies, Miskatonic seemed to collect them by the volume. Kincaid was certain most of it was rubbish, but then he looked her in the eyes.

"Miskatonic is an excellent school, it always has been. It boasts the finest students and faculty. But it also has always had the reputation of drawing those who are a bit off."

He refused to elaborate. At the time she had thought nothing about it, especially when that delicious James Possible walked into the bar. Now she wished she had pressed Kincaid for more.

It was late. _Tomorrow I'll start a search. We'll see who was 'off' and by how much._

Miski

Kim looked around after she turned off her phone. Where were Ron and Rufus? _The Arms doesn't have an arcade, does it? If he's off engrossed with the latest Zombie Mayhem…_

"Hey, Kim." He walked in the door.

"Hey, Ron. Where were you?"

"Out." The answer was unusually short without being evasive. He leaned over her and took her hand.

"Close your eyes and come with me. I have a surprise."

Kim smiled to herself as she obeyed. _What is he up to? _For an absolutely mad moment she could see a tub filled with bubbles and surrounded by candles and roses. Just as quickly she envisioned a rocket headed for deep space. _Better stick to the real and the safe._

He stopped her and putting his hands on her shoulders, turned her. He lifted the hair from the back of her neck, and used her hands to hold it in place. She could feel cold metal touch her skin. Despite herself she gasped.

"Open your eyes."

Ron had taken her to the mirror in the room. She was wearing a gold necklace sporting a black stone. A gold design was on it. It seemed to be a branch. "Ron! It's beautiful! I've never seen anything like it before. Where did you find it?"

"At the jewelry store in the lobby. I wanted to thank you for coming with me."

"How could you afford it?" She was incredulous. He had never bought her jewelry before.

"Well," he gave a little smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Mr. Smarty gave me a nice bonus, which was great since he didn't have to give one to someone who hasn't been with the company for a year. We also had quite a bit budgeted for interview trips once I started applying for college. Since this is where I'm going, I felt I could splurge."

_As long as the interview goes right. Stop it, Kim! His confidence is soaring right now and that's just what he needs for tomorrow. Besides, this is great!_

"What's the little symbol?"

"The man at the counter said it's something the Indians here used before the settlers came. He says it's everywhere on the rocks along the river and up in the woods. I just thought it would look really good on you. I think I'm right."

She put her arms around his neck and gave him a sharp kiss. "I won't argue with you there, Mister. Now, I'm afraid it's time to turn in. You have an important interview tomorrow."

Miski

Rufus crawled out of the bedroom in the middle of the night, off for a snack. He looked over at the door to Kim's room. Red lines formed a web in front of it. Mrs. Dr. P. might trust her daughter and Ron, but Mr. Dr. P. evidently was not taking any chances. He snickered. Soon he was making his way back to the room with a wedge of award winning New England cheddar.

He set his paw on the door to open it, and then stopped. He sniffed the air, for a moment something felt dreadfully wrong. His eyes narrowed, he dropped the cheese to take a fighting stance. But nothing was there. After a few minutes he shrugged, picked up his cheese and returned to the room.

Time passed. A shadow detached itself from the floor and glided across the room. It stopped at Kim's door. The laser grid made no impression on it as the thing slipped past and through the door.

The thing was hideous. It was the color of night with even darker round eyes. Tattered wings did not flap as it floated to the foot of Kim's bed. A smile revealed long sharp fangs. Perfect. She was asleep. It touched a talon to the air. The air seemed to rip open, leaving a trail of smoke. Soon a series of glyphs hung in the air. Now the girl would not awaken until it desired it, and it had no intent of that ever happening.

It crept closer. Confused earlier generations had called its kind Incubus. But it had no such intention. It was not the pleasures of the flesh it sought, but the flesh itself. In the morning the girl would rise; same skin, same hair, same bones, but her spirit would be trapped between the winds. The boy would face a girl with a quite different light in her eyes, who would steal a little of his soul with each fiery kiss. Oh, its Masters would be so pleased when it reduced the boy's soul to ashes!

She stirred slightly as it came near. Something shifted beneath her sleep shirt as the talon reached for the base of her throat. There was a clink as talon struck metal. An almost imperceptible flash made the thing's eyes widen in terror. It tried to draw back but the talon refused to move. Something held it in place, a glowing first soft, then fierce. Golden fire crawled up the struggling form. The malformed head was thrown back on its withered neck as it gave an inaudible scream. Its shadow substance sloughed off and melted into nothing. Soon only a pair of withered wings remained, then they too were gone. Having destroyed the creature, the light turned on the glyphs in the air. They fared no better.

A few minutes later Kim opened her eyes. She had forgotten to take the necklace off. She admired it for a while before she hung it on the centerpiece of the head board. "Got to protect this. Protect…" she drifted off to sleep again.

The stone glowed ever so slightly, keeping watch throughout the night.


	3. Interview With the Rats in the Walls

3. Interview With the Rats in the Walls

"And those are the Libraries. The one on the right is the Rockefeller Library, the Undergraduate Library. Across from it's the John Hay. It's restricted to Graduate Students and Faculty."

_Well, he's done his homework…for a change. _"Ron, what's that gate for?"

An imposing wrought-iron gate stood in front of a large colonial style building. It was not connected to any wall.

He smiled. "That's the Van Wickle Gate, KP. It's opened twice a year. In the fall the incoming freshman class enters. The graduating seniors leave through it in the spring. Yep, Rufus and I will be going through that gate."

"Behind it is University Hall, the oldest building on campus. The British stabled horses there during the Revolutionary War."

Rufus stuck his head out of Ron's pocket. He made a face. "Pbbbtttt! Lobsterbacks!"

"That's right, little buddy. Nobody pushes Miski around!" He turned back to Kim.

"How do I look?"

Ron was dressed for an interview. The shirt and slacks were carefully pressed. He had fussed much of the morning with the tie. "No clip-on from now on." He vowed. His jacket looked new, but that was just from the fact he seldom wore it. Kim could not help but smile.

"Ron, you look positively collegiate."

"Thanks, KP. We better get across the street. The interview's coming up. What're you and Rufus going to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe take a look around. The College Grounds…"

"Green, Kim, the College Green."

"Sorry, the Green." Kim was not used to being corrected by Ron, but she did not mind this time. _The College Interview Guide says 'take possession of your school' he's done that._ They made it across. Rufus jumped out of Ron's pocket and into Kim's purse as they came up to the door of University Hall.

"Would it be considered childish to give you a kiss for luck before the interview?" Kim teased. Ron's ears turned red.

"I know what you're up to. You see the coeds around…"

"And I want to tell them you're off limits! Partly right, Miski Man." She took his hands and gave him a small, but warm kiss.

"Booyah!" Ron stood taller. He reached to push on the door. Before he could touch it, it slowly opened.

Shoes gleamed in the shadows. A tall man stood just out of the sunlight. He was dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt and black tie. Dark hair stood out atop the pale skin. There was a smile on the angular face, reaching up to his dark, glittering eyes. With a slight bow, he spoke.

"Ronald Stoppable, and your friend, Kimberly Possible, welcome! Enter freely and of your own will."

They shrugged to each other and walked in. Someone closed the door behind them. The man stepped forward and shook Ron's hand. His grip was amazing. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And right on time. I hate it when people are too early, and don't get me started on being late."

"We're all about being on the dot." Ron's mind flashed to a thousand, yes, literally a thousand, times he missed a drop zone. His face made the man smile.

"And it is a great pleasure to meet you, Ms. Possible." She could feel the strength in his fingertips as he lifted her hand. The lips he touched to it were cool. "Forgive me for being so forward, but my Mother would never forgive me for failing in my manners. I am Jonathan Bledsoe, a member of the Admissions Department. I am here to escort Ronald to the interview, and to see to it that Kimberly is taken care of during that time."

"How about that, Kim, you have a guide." Ron beamed. "Nothing but First Class at Miskatonic!."

Rufus stuck his head out of Kim's purse. He took one look at Bledsoe and dove back in with a gasp.

"I'm afraid I don't have very good 'pet karma'. Bledsoe's smile was toothsome. "Shall we go? They're expecting us."

A short walk carried them to a set of doors. "If you will wait here, Ms. Possible. Shall we go in, Mr. Stoppable?"

Kim gave his hand a squeeze. Rufus popped up from Kim's purse to give a thumbs up. Ron took a deep breath. "Here we go."

Five people sat a round table facing Ron as he entered. They rose. A middle-aged woman to his left smiled. "Welcome to Miskatonic, Mr. Stoppable. I'm Dr. Spengler of the Philosophy Department. I've been looking forward to this."

"I'm Dr. Gokhale from the Physics Department." The dapper man next to her smiled. "We like to have a variety of disciplines represented."

The next man was very old. Skin stretched almost to the tearing point on a bony face. His gray hair was sparse and wispy. A smile revealed yellow teeth. "I am Dr. Thorndike of the Divinity School. Forgive me if I don't use the more modern 'Religious Studies Department' I've been here a while."

"As have I." An equally old man, with dark hair and eyes took his eyes off Thorndike to capture Ron with his stare. "Dr. Lichfield of Classical and Esoteric Languages. It's a true pleasure to meet you at last."

A much younger woman shook her head and smiled at Ron. "Dr. Tarovich from the English Department. Thank you, Bledsoe." The man left. "Now, Ronald, or do you prefer Ron?"

"Ron is cool…I mean, fine." He smiled a little nervously as he took his seat. Kim had coached him regarding interviews, but the one thing he had taken to heart was there was no way to know what they were looking for at the start. _Just be yourself._

"Now, I believe we will begin in the order we were introduced. Dr. Spengler?"

"Thank you, Marta. Now, Ron, we read a LOT of essays, but one line of yours caught my attention. 'Never be normal.' At first I thought it might be some of the mindless non-conformity so many teens affect, but as I read, I determined there was something more. Can you fill me in?"

"I'd be happy to. I don't do mindless non-conformity…that would be conformist." He leaned back, amazed at how relaxed he felt. "I've never seen the reason to fit in. The Ron Man is his own Man."

"And yet you've managed to be a mascot, a record-setting running back, and the assistant to an internationally known hero. You've even managed to steadily raise your grades this year. Well done!" Dr. Gokhale approved. "Now, as to my question…"

Miski

"Would you like some tea, Ms. Possible?"

"Please and thank you. And call me Kim." They were in a small, cozy room lined with book shelves. She sat in a leather chair as Bledsoe poured tea into a cup. When he finished, she helped herself to cream and sugar.

"I believe we could use a little more light." Bledsoe pulled back the shades to reveal a beautiful landscape. A lovely lawn with ancient oaks stretched out, green and inviting. Fine brick buildings stood around it. Kim could see students, faculty and others walking, sitting, or simply standing and talking.

"I'll take you on a tour after you finish your tea."

"Aren't you having any?"

"I never drink…tea. Caffeine makes me jittery. I'll just pour myself some cider." He filled his cup and brought over a tray. "Biscuit?"

Rufus stuck his head out of Kim's purse at the mention of food. He waited for Kim to take a selection, then took a short bread and popped it into his mouth. Satisfied with the first one, he tried one of everything.

"We were so pleased that Ronald applied. I must say I had hoped you had joined him. We get so few scholar adventurers anymore."

"Scholar adventurers?" Kim could not keep the amusement out of her voice.

"Yes, people of action as well as thought. T.E. Lawrence, Theodore Roosevelt, Xenophon. You see, Miskatonic is one of the premiere institutions in the nation. It is every bit as difficult to gain entrance here as it is at Harvard. I hear your interview there went quite nicely. I suspect you'll receive good news shortly."

"Thank you. I don't mean to diss my Ron, but if this place is so competitive…"

"Why are we wooing him?" Bledsoe smiled. "We are aware that there's more to a good student than grades. While many may call him a 'slacker' he has shown true potential. The raw material is definitely there. Our exploratory committee went all the back to pre-K. A boy of exceptional abilities; only needing the right people and circumstances to bring it out. We would like to assist that development."

"You investigated him?" Kim hid her concern well. Rufus was too busy taking thirds to notice.

"A simple background check. This scholarship is funded by a grant begun by the old Arkham Congregational Church. It demands a certain set of criteria be met. Ronald is a fine young man, intelligent, thoughtful, loyal and in the true sense of the word; courageous. I personally feel he would be a fine recipient of the Solomon Kane Fellowship."

"Solomon Kane?" _That name almost sounds familiar._

"An Englishman. Puritan, traveler, scholar. His collection of esoteric literature is housed in the John Hay. Some of the books there are the only copies known to exist in this Hemisphere. A few others may be found only here. He spent his last years in Arkham after traveling the world. No one could ever get him to discuss what he did. Apparently a rather quiet man."

Rufus dropped a spiced cookie. It landed on its side and rolled between a set of book cases. The naked mole rat chased after it.

"He'll be back." Kim laughed.

The cookie struck the wall and fell over. Before the naked mole rat could pounce on his prize, a sound caught his attention. He walked in the narrow space behind a bookcase and came upon a hole. Somewhere inside he could hear someone. And they were crying. The hero in him could not resist. He straightened his shoulders and plunged into the darkness.

Miski

"Mr. Stoppable." Thorndike leaned forward. "You have served as Miss Possible's assistant for some time now."

"She's been my best friend forever!" _Oops, I interrupted! Hope he doesn't mind. Stay cool, Ron._

The old man seemed not to mind. "Yes. Well, be that as it may, there comes a time when we all must stand on our own. Your friend did not apply here, pity. Do you feel ready to face at least this part of the world alone?"

"There's no such thing as being alone when KP involved. We're always there for each other. She can do anything. I'm a little more limited." For a moment he cast his eyes down. "But I'm ready for whatever comes!"

"I hope you are."

Miski

"Where's Rufus?"

"He's still missing?" Bledsoe set the tea service back on the tray. "Perhaps he's taking a nap? After all, he did consume quite a bit."

"Not for him." She bent down by the bookcase. "Rufus. Rufus, are you there? Ron's trusted me with him. This is going only a little better than the last time."

"Last time?"

"There was a microchip, and thieves."

Bledsoe came over. "There are no thieves here. And you don't have to worry about cats. They're forbidden in University Hall."

"Forbidden?"

"An old tradition. When the British occupied Arkham during the Revolution, they stabled their horses here. They did not stay long, and when they left, they complained loudly about the rats. Eating the horses' grain, chewing on leather work, and making a general nuisance. After the British left, the Board of Regents issued a proclamation thanking the rats and declared that no cat would ever be allowed in the building again. Of course, there have been no rats here in a very long time."

Miski

Rufus moved in the space between the walls. He could definitely hear crying. It was a thin and hopeless sound. His eyes caught the faintest light, and soon he found the source of the weeping.

A little brown field mouse was curled in a crook of the wall. She was shaking with fear. Large dark eyes looked up at Rufus when he stopped in front of her.

"Hi." Rufus smiled.

"Daisy." She whimpered.

"Rufus." The naked mole rats puffed his chest out. "Wanna leave?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yes!" She started to move, when she flattened herself against the wall with a squeal of terror.

A scratching sound came from behind. Rufus turned to see red eyes glowing in the dark. At least a dozen pair of eyes.

"Rats!"

They were in an open area between the walls. Rufus stood between the rats and the mouse. Sharp teeth revealed anger and a terrible hunger. Daisy was terrified. Rufus was alone, no Ron, no Kim. It was all up to him. He took up a fighting stance.

The first rat sprang and immediately flew back from a side kick. Others lunged and fared even worse. Rufus plunged into them. There was no opening for his attackers, every move met with a paw or foot. Rats crashed into the walls, tumbled off into the darkness. The lead rat staggered back up as the others fled. Rufus rushed up to him and took him out with a head butt. No one stood before him. Giving a slight bow to his defeated enemy, he turned to Daisy.

"Ready?" Before he could take her paw, he heard more growling. It was different in tone. A new set of eyes glowed. He took up his stance. Daisy shrank back again.

The rat was huge, able to hold its own with a cat. Yet it was shrunken, withered. Rufus understood why there had been no glow like the others; there were no eyes. The dead don't use eyes to see. A grisly court followed the undead Rat King. Behind them crowded more mundane foes.

Rufus took Daisy's paw in his. "Let's go!" He kicked the unconscious rat into the Rat King as he sprang. There was a pile of angry rodents as Rufus and Daisy ran for their lives.

Miski

Lichfield leaned forward. "We contacted a great many people regarding your application. One was the Head of the Yamanouchi School where you spent a week. He was most generous with his praise. 'Great things will come from this young man.' I do not mean to pry, but Yamanouchi is a most unusual school, is it not?"

"It's the best! Japanese education is…intense. I learned a lot in that week. Met some great people, it was my honor to attend."

The last words brought an odd smile to the old man's face. "Great things. Perhaps we'll see, Mr. Stoppable."

Miski

"I can't believe Rufus is missing." Kim bit her lip in frustration.

"Tell you what. We'll close the door and lock it. When he gets back, he won't be able to get out, and no one will be able to come in and disturb him. Now, shall we take that tour?"

"I, I guess so. You're sure he'll be all right?"

"The door will be locked. Who could give him any trouble?"

Miski

Rufus and Daisy raced between the walls, chased by the Rat King and his ghastly court. Behind them trailed a horde of rats, eager for the feast. Once a rat sprang out to cut off their escape, Rufus hardly broke stride as he hurled him over his shoulder. However much Sensei had taught him, it would not be enough to overcome countless foes led by those who were beyond pain.

The way opened ahead of them. They bounded into the room, and screamed.

Rufus stared at the bayonet at his nose. It was connected to the brown barrel of a musket. The weapon still rested in the hands of its owner. They were in a small room. A corpse was seated in the corner. Rufus could make out the red coat and brass miter still resting on the remnants of a powdered wig. Two hundred years had not erased the fear and loathing on the withered face.

A plan formed. Rufus ran up the body and to the pan of the musket. He dug away the clotted powder and sniffed at the touch hole. The powder inside was still good. Grabbing the brass powder flask, he poured a new charge. There was little time. A faint sound, scratching and screeching, came to his ears, it carried doom.

The remaining contents of the flask went down past the muzzle of the gun. Something thudded behind him. Daisy was tossing out cartridges from the soldier's box. Rufus bit off the ends and pointed the end with the musket balls at the sound. If all worked according to plan, they would get quite a reception.

Daisy shrieked. A vast shadow flew over Rufus. There was a grunt of surprise as the Rat King impaled himself on the bayonet. Desiccated skin tore, old bones snapped, but the thing could not free itself. Claws reached out to Rufus in frustration. Something glowed behind the hollows of its eyes; the Rat King began to pull itself along the bayonet. The sounds in the darkness grew louder.

The two ran back to the musket. Rufus pulled the hammer back. He got down to the trigger. Eyes were glowing in the darkness. The trigger was locked with rust. Rufus strained at it as the rats came on. Daisy pulled on the other side. A horde poured into the room.

KE-POW! WHOOSH! POW! POW! POW!

"What was that?" Kim glanced at the walls as she and Bledsoe walked down the hall.

"Perhaps the building is settling." Bledsoe frowned.

"What was that?!" Ron jumped in his seat.

"Nothing." Lichfield looked to the walls. "Just the settling of the building."

"Or perhaps, the settling of old scores." Thorndike gave Lichfield a none-to-friendly smile. "You had another question, Marta?"

Miski

Small fires burned in the room. Even poorly propelled, the musket balls had shattered the ancient bones of the ghastly court of the Rat King. Old hides ignited instantly and were turning into ashes. Rufus and Daisy stepped forward cautiously. The rats had fled with the destruction of their gods. Rufus turned to smile when a hiss made him jump.

The shot from the musket had thrown the Rat King against the wall. The lower half was gone, but he pulled himself along with his forepaws, his face glowing with anger. Rufus took a stance to fight when Daisy rushed forward. She had pulled a pipe from out of the Red Coat's vest. She brought it down on the Rat King's skull again and again. Soon there was nothing left.

Daisy gave the moldering pile a final contemptuous smash. They looked back to the soldier. Instead of horror, an expression of triumph was there on his face. Rufus gave a salute, then took Daisy's forepaw. He blushed when she kissed his cheek.

"Let's go."

Miski

"This is a lovely campus! Thanks for the tour."

"My pleasure. Now, let's see if your friend's pet has decided to make his presence known." Bledsoe unlocked the door.

Rufus was in a chair. A stack of cookies were dwindling around him. He gave Kim a wave.

"See." Bledsoe beamed. "I knew he was fine."

Miski

Kim watched Ron as he tried to interest himself in a magazine. It was the latest copy of 'Human' the lead story was 'Kim Possible: Which College for the Heroine?' _Won't the world give us a break?_

"When will you know?"

"Not sure, KP. I think it went okay. Thanks for all the help. It, it really helped to have you here."

"I'm always here for my BFBF." Kim gave him a reassuring touch. "Now, how about a kiss?"

"A pity kiss?" Ron was dubious. "I've had enough of those."

"Not pity." _How did he learn about that? _"For luck…and sheer fun."

That got a smile from Ron. Kim was reaching for him when there was a knock at the door. She got up with a huff. _At least it's not Wade. Nice that it's been quiet lately._

Bledsoe was at the door. "May I come in?"

Kim stood aside as he walked in. Ron stood up uncertainly.

Bledsoe extended his hand with a warm smile. "I wanted to tell you myself. Congratulations! The Acceptance Committee has approved your application."

"Really?" Ron swallowed. Kim beamed. Rufus did a triumphant moon walk.

"It was a unanimous decision. You must have really impressed them: Thorndike and Lichfield never agree on anything. Quite a day I would say. Have you watched the news?"

The teens shook their heads.

"We found a forgotten room in University Hall today. It had been sealed ages ago. There was a body in there. Once we identify the uniform, a deputation from the appropriate regiment of Her Majesty's army will come to take him home for a military burial. They found some rat bones as well. There's talk of burying them as well…a tribute to the rodent patriots of 1776."

Bledsoe opened a manila envelope. He laid the vellum on the table. "If you're ready, I can have you sign your letter of acceptance for the Solomon Kane Fellowship, and your admittance to Miskatonic University."

Ron took the offered pen with a smile. He signed with a flourish and turned to catch an ecstatic Kim in his arms. She did not care if Bledsoe saw her kiss him so hard that it left Ron with that adorable, and most non-collegiate, look.

"Congratulations," she purred in his ear "Miski Man."

**Details of Brown University, the main inspiration for Miskatonic University, are courtesy of King in Yellow. I apologize to the Ruler of Lost Carcosa for any inaccuracies.**

**Kim Possible, of course, is the property of Walt Disney.**

**Solomon Kane, created by Robert Howard, is now the property of Paradox Entertainment.**


	4. End of School Days

4. The End of (School) Days

Mrs. Dr. Possible sat back from her computer. This was just too much. Her Snooper search engine was giving her a new icon. The puppy lay with its tongue hanging out and its eye crossed.

**Search yielding…way too much to compute! Do you want to limit your search?**

She clicked on 'no'. While she was curious, there were other things that had to be done. The twins would groan, but it was her turn to get the new computer next time. For now, it was time to call in the experts.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Possible." Wade looked shocked to see Kim's mother on his computer phone.

"Hello, Wade. How is everybody?"

"We're fine! When's the interview?"

"Ron should be there now."

"You know, I don't mean to sound snobbish, but what does Miskatonic want with Ron? It's one of the top universities in the world! I always took Ron for more of a community college transfer to a city college type."

"I'm not sure myself. That's why I called. I'd like for you to do a little background check on Miskatonic. Don't tell Kim or Ron, though."

The boy's hands flew across his keyboard. "I take it you tried already?"

"My computer was ready to freeze. I'm going to need another soon."

"It'll take a while to sort fact from fancy. Can you give me some time?"

"As long as you need. And don't worry, I can keep a secret. No need for them to know you aren't always instantaneous."

"Thanks. I'll let you know when I have something."

Ann went back to her table. There were several articles she had to read and give a peer review. Three different certification boards were waiting for the exam questions she was drafting. None of that could be put off any longer. As for Miskatonic, she already knew what she wanted to consult while Wade searched the web.

Miski

"Morning, Mr. Barkin." Kim beamed at the eternally harried Assistant Principal of Middleton High School. While over a month away, the end of the school year was already a source of irritation for the old soldier.

"Morning, Possible, did you have a productive weekend? Where's Ron?"

"Oh, he's coming." She looked over her shoulder; the hallway was abuzz behind her.

Ron came down the hall. Instead of the usual red shirt and cargo pants, he wore slacks, an oxford shirt with a tie and a tweed jacket. A red and brown scarf was draped over the jacket. Rufus peeked out of a jacket pocket, wearing what for all the world looked like a raccoon skin coat.

"Ave, Mr. Barkin." Ron stood tall and proud before Barkin; for once not at all intimidated by the giant. "That's Latin, you know. It means hello."

"I am well aware of its meaning. The Barkins have never abandoned the Mother Tongue of Western Civilization. What's with the academic get up? I haven't heard of any fancy dress ball, that's English for a costume party."

"Just getting into the spirit for the fall…when I go to Miskatonic University!" He reached into his jacket and pulled out his acceptance letter. "You're looking at the Recipient of the 2007 Solomon Kane Fellowship."

"Miskatonic?" Barkin was incredulous.

"In Arkham, Massachusetts, in the IVY LEAGUE!"

"I know it's in the Ivy League, Stoppable. When did this miracle happen?"

"The interview was Saturday." Kim piped in, unable to contain her pride any longer. "It went spankin'! He was voted in unanimously, and in record time."

Barkin's face twisted. "Then I suppose congratulations are in order, Stoppable. Miskatonic must have some unusual criteria."

"Thank you, sir." Ron crowed. "Never be normal…that's the key to greatness!" Rufus stuck his head out again, this time holding the appropriate prop: a skeleton key.

Miski

Ann Possible stepped into her favorite bookstore. While Boundaries was cheaper, she remained devoted to Bartleby's. The crammed shelves, the big overstuffed chairs, and the book worm staff had an appeal that price gouging could never match. The Widow Bartleby, who looked like a character from her favorite genre, nineteenth century romance; smiled at her from the desk.

"Good morning, Dr. Possible. We have your book. Quite a change for you. Has Kimmie decided on a college yet?"

"Officially, no. But I think Harvard will get the nod." Ann handed over her debit card while she thumbed though the long out-of-print tome. "You know, it would be close to Arkham, where Ron got a Fellowship."

"Oh, I've heard. Every driven senior is buzzing about it, mostly good. I gather you wanted the book in regards to Miskatonic?"

Ann nodded as she signed her receipt and returned her card to its place. "A professor once mentioned it. It seemed a good place to start. Grace, I have a question. I know Boundaries offered to buy you out. You could have retired in style. Why did you decline?"

"Retire? I would prefer not to."

_I just can't resist giving her the chance to say that. _Walking out, Ann opened the book. The corner of her mouth twitched when she saw the date of printing. _Out of print for twenty-six years! Am I getting old?_ She turned to the title page. **The Shadowed Halls of Academe: Strange Stories and Stranger People from the World of Higher Education. **The table of contents revealed the Ivy League claimed its fair share of pages. And one school had as many pages as any other two combined.

"Miskatonic University."

Miski

The rest of the school year went by without incident. Aside for an insane amount of media coverage, graduation was almost dull. Bonnie Rockwaller's discovery that she would have to go to summer school made for a few colorful minutes. After that, it was parties and working while waiting for college to begin.

And for Kim it would be Harvard. Mr. Howell himself came by with the acceptance offer, along with a gourmet dinner for the family on a yacht he had air lifted to Lake Middleton for the occasion.

There were missions, of course. Drakken was busy June and July. His last scheme was so hastily drawn up he failed to give it a name. A week after Team Possible wrecked Plan 457 they received a post card from Shego. **See you after Drakken gets parole, Kimmie.**

"I guess she's taking the rest of the summer off." Kim smiled. "One less person to go hand to hand with."

"That leaves more time for us." Ron slid up to her with a new-found confidence.

Kim put her arm behind his neck as he drew closer. "Booyah. You better remember this, Monkey-Boy, when you go to Yamanouchi next week."

"Hey, no calling me Monkey-Boy." He was about to say something else when her kiss utterly wiped his mind. "Aehhuhh…"

"You just remember that when Yori's around."

"Can't…think…of…anything…else."

"That's my boy."

Miski

Even the trials of ninjitsu passed quickly for Ron. They were a blur that left him for the most part feeling trampled. Rufus on the other hand mastered several new skills, and began to attract students eager to learn the way of the Naked Mole Rat.

"I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but Miskatonic's football team holds its open try-outs next week. I've been invited."

"One must discover one's ability. The strongest sword is nothing if it is never tested." Sensei smiled under his moustache. "As a wise woman once said, 'seems we just get started then before you know it, comes the time we have to say, so long.'"

"Tell Yori I said hi. I'm sorry that Ninja University starts so early. I would have liked to have seen her."

"And she is sorry she missed you. Now, as always…"

"I know. It is my honor to walk." Ron hefted his pack and began the long trek down the mountain.

Sensei watched the Champion of the Yamanouchi School making his way when he sensed the Master Lunch Lady behind him.

"You know where he is going? The others are too young, but we were both here the last time Yamanouchi students went to Miskatonic. They vanished without a trace."

"It was a time of war." Sensei bowed his head in respect to those lost so many decades ago. "We have no idea if they even made it to Massachusetts, much less the Vault of Solomon Kane."

"The three best students of their class: seeking a power greater than any mortal weapon. Perhaps it was for the best they failed." Master Lunch Lady sighed. "And now another of the school will tread those halls. What will be his fate?"

"Perhaps four years of learning and fun; as university should be. Besides, the Three Lost Ones were alone. Stoppable-san will have assistance if needed."

"YECAA?" The old woman raised her eyebrows.

Sensei nodded. "YECAA."

Miski

"Wade?" Ann Possible stared in amazement at Kim's tech guru standing at the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would give you a print out of what I've come up with. I thought about sending it via e-mail, but I doubt you'd want your system tied up for that long." He pulled out what looked like a book. "This is what I came up with that should be more or less reliable. There's a lot of weird stuff out there about Miskatonic. One guy, Howard Preston Likework, made a living off of it."

"Thanks, Wade. I owe you one."

"Nah, just think of it as a late graduation gift for Ron."

"I know you read this, Wade. Should we be worried?"

"Monsters? Dark Gods? I think the biggest risk Ron might have is if he runs into anyone crazy enough to believe this stuff."

Miski

Mount Yamanouchi lay shrouded in fog. But even so the mountain for once was not hidden. Great fires burned on the surrounding peaks and at sites all around the school. The boys beat on massive drums, and the girls danced in elaborate costumes with garish masks, brandishing weapons of war.

In the Building of the Lotus Blade, Sensei knelt before a small fire. Had Stoppable-san had another two weeks, he could have seen this. It was unlikely that he would ever see it now, unless certain rumors concerning the Master of Monkey Kung Fu were correct.

For all its power and unknown age, the Lotus Blade was still a weapon requiring upkeep. The bindings on the hilt were fraying. While almost imperceptible to the layman, a master of the katana could see that it the weapon needed repair to retain its efficiency.

But with the Lotus Blade this was not a simple issue. Things happened when the sword was tended to. The last time, Perry's Black Fleet arrived. Before that, Toranaga captured the Shogunate. And earlier, the fleets of the Great Khan had landed. Hence the fires, the dances, and prayers.

The bindings were fed into the fire. They blazed and disappeared at once. Next he removed the hilt. It would also be replaced. Sensei had longed to see the characters on the tang. No one had seen them in generations. He had heard rumors since he had first come to the school a lifetime ago.

The characters were in no language he knew. One in particular caught his eye. He had seen something like it just recently, in a picture Stoppable-san had kept by his bed. Kim wore it on a necklace purchased by the boy during their trip to Miskatonic.

He dared not touch the branching symbol.

I do not own Kim Possible, Mr. Howell, or Solomon Kane belong to me.

Apologies to all purists out there, but I used Western terms in reference to the sword.


	5. New Blood

5. New Blood

In their castle beyond the night

Gather the gods in darkness,

To weave the lattice of man's fate…

Or to choose a lineup for the new season

I mean 4 and 8?

We gotta do better than that!

(Fragment attributed to Opyros, with additional lines from some football nut)

_I'm lost in the trees. _

Ron looked around at the other hopefuls. He was used to being smaller than almost anyone else on the field, but this was ridiculous. At Middleton, he was up against the biggest boys in Colorado. Now, he would face the pick of fifty states, plus the District of Columbia.

A coach came over and checked his clipboard. "Ron Stoppable?"

"Here, sir!"

"Sorry we didn't have a set of running back gear in your size. The kicker pads will just have to do for now. If you make the team, we'll put in the special order." The man checked his pad. "School record holder, highest receiving yardage for a running back in Colorado for the season, and Colorado record holder for most receiving touchdowns for a running back in a season. Not bad, Stoppable…"

"Thank you, sir…"

"I WASN'T FINISHED!" The ghost of Barkin Past was in his face. "The only significance those stats have here is that they will be in the program IF you make the team! This is COLLEGE FOOTBALL, bigger, faster, and meaner than anything you've ever seen. You'll all have to adapt to the new challenges. Don't forget, your old coaches had to make do with what they had, we CHOOSE who we want!"

Ron swallowed. The boys around him were rattled too. The corner of the coach's mouth curled up in satisfaction. "Attention! Head Coach on deck!"

He was not what Ron expected. The coach was short, slim, and…_Japanese? Do they play football between seasons of Ninja Warrior? _He smiled at the players as he looked up from a clipboard.

"Welcome to Miskatonic's open tryout for the 2007 season. My name is Takeshi Tadeka, the new Head Coach for Miskatonic. I am pleased to see such a turn out, and of such caliber! You are young men of exceptional ability, intelligence, and character. One cannot make a great sword without the proper steel. I believe that we have the necessary material for a most excellent season.

"As Coach Grizzard has told you, this is another level of competition. You will need more than mere physical skills. No doubt you have all viewed tapes and studied the moves and careers of great players. You must add another level of education to prevail at this level."

An Athletic Assistant handed out small folders to the assembled players. They opened them with quizzical expressions.

"The Book of Five Rings, by the master swordsman, Miamoto Mushashi. A classic on the art of war, which is a great deal like football."

"Uh, sir," a player raised his hand, "this is in Japanese."

"Why yes, it is." Coach Takeshi nodded. "First lesson; always be prepared for new, seemingly impossible challenges. You will find you must…"

"Do the unexpected?" Ron spoke out before thinking. For once, it seemed someone approved.

"Excellent! You know Mushahi then, Stoppable?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck as the Coach smiled, and several team mates glared at him. "Well, heh heh, I've had to read it before…at a week at exchange school."

"And I am sure you learned much at your school that week, neh?"

"Oh, tons! I learned…Well, I learned a lot!"

Takeshi's smile was knowing. "We shall see." He turned away and Coach Grizzard stepped up.

"PREPARE FOR DRILLS!"

A mountain shouldered past Ron. "Better watch those light pads, Coach's Pet."

It was a long day. Running drills, dodging drills, footwork, blocking, and receiving. The fumble recovery drills were the worst. Ron found his new status as 'pet' made him the object of repeated pile ups. But he never lost the ball.

"Not bad, kiddies." Grizzard snarled at the end of the day. Some of you may make it yet. Stoppable, way to hold onto the ball. All of you, remember, if you don't have the ball at the end of the play, you've done nothing! Now hit the showers!"

A lanky black man slapped Ron on the shoulder. "Not bad for a small boy." Ron saw that the smile was genuine.

"Thanks. I'm Ron."

"I'm Steve. I'm trying out for wide receiver."

"You shouldn't have any trouble, I saw you on the forty. That was mad speed!"

"You don't stand still yourself." Steve grinned. "They really need to get you some real pads, though. You might break something in those."

"I'll just have to rely on my mad running away skills." Ron took an instant liking to his companion.

A long, low whistle came from behind them. They looked to see the others had stopped in their tracks to watch some approaching figures.

"We aren't the only ones having try-outs right now." Steve breathed.

Three girls passed down the line of goggle-eyed players. A blond and brunette were slightly behind a willowy girl with long hair the color of sand. Her skin was perfectly tan. When she came up to Ron she stopped.

"Hello." Her voice was exotic, lilting.

"H-h-hi." Ron was flummoxed. "Do I know you?"

"No, Ronald, but I know you." The way she accented the second syllable of his name made his heart stumble. "Your girl friend, Kim, showed me your picture in Gainesville. We were at the National Championships. My squad won."

"You're from the Delacroix squad? I saw some of the tapes…you guys were awesome!"

"Why thank you." She smiled, the eyes did not sparkle so much as glitter like steel. "I was Captain that year. I am Marie. Marie LaTreau. We're trying out for the squad."

"Trying?" The blond behind her laughed. "Marie will be the first freshman starter on the squad in twenty years. She's just supernatural!"

"Melanie, you flatter me." Marie's flashed a smile, her teeth bright and sharp. "Like you, Ronald, I have hopes and dreams for the coming year. I expect to see you on the field."

"Same here." Ron licked his lips nervously.

"Ah, where are my manners? You boys are so hot and dry from a long day, and we really must be going." She brushed close to Ron. "We also need to shower…long and slow… She laughed at the expression on the boys' faces. "Come Melanie, Teresa, let's leave them alone. Very nice to meet you, Ronald."

"The pleasure was all ours." Ron shook his head as the three sashayed by.

"Uh-huh, New Orleans Ladies!" Steve exulted. "And they KNEW you! You're the man, Ron!"

"Yeah, he's popular with everyone." A player behind him muttered.

_Popular? Since when did anyone use that word with me? _"I am what I is." Players around him smiled. Ron had broken the jock barrier once with performance and humor. He was willing to resort to the old tactics. "Does anyone have a computer here?"

Several players raised their hands. They were trying out for the Miskatonic team, after all.

"I'll need to borrow one. There's a file in mine that could help us with our reading tonight."

Miski

"Hi, KP, how's it going at try-outs?"

"Great!" Kim grimaced as she applied an ice pack to her ankle. She had had a bad fall coming off a pyramid. "I'll be on the freshman squad. We'll just be at the home games, but it's a start. And how's my Miski man doing?"

"Super! First day down and still alive. Speaking of still alive, I saw one of your old competitors today."

"Who? Bonnie isn't there, is she?"

"Noooo. I think she's at ESU. I'm talking about the captain of the Delacroix squad, Marie LaTreau. She said to say 'hi' to you."

Kim was glad she did not have to try to hide the frown. Something about that girl had rubbed her the wrong way. Now she was close to her Ron Man. For a mad moment she considered warning him about nail clippings and hair brushes.

"Kim, uh, Kim are you there?"

"Oh, ah, yes, Ron! Sorry, just remembering Gainesville. That was so not the best of times."

"Well, congrats on making the squad, KP."

"Thanks. You take care, Ron. Good luck."

"The Ron Man won't need luck. I've got the skills and the knowledge…I know Musashi."

"What does that mean?"

"No time to explain, KP. It's lights out time! Good night!"

"Good night, Ron."

Kim turned off her phone and sat back in her chair. She would go home tomorrow. And then three weeks before coming back for the next four years. There would be time to finish up at Club Banana, cruise around Middleton drinking in the sights, and help Rufus keep up with Hana until Ron returned next week. _And it'll be next week, he'll make the team._

_Nothing can stop him._

Someone shared Kim's thoughts. A figure crouched in a tree looking through the dorm window at Ron as he slept. Her smile was predatory.

"Ah, Ronald, you may not even need my help. You will make the team, it is destiny!"

She leapt down from the tree. Not even Kim could have landed as gracefully, it was as if she barely touched the ground, coming down in slow motion. A wind blew Marie's hair back as she walked to her dorm room.

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

The line from 'Gods in Darkness' comes from 'Darkness Weaves' by the late great Karl Edward Wagner, book property of Warner Books


	6. Make It andor Break It

6. Make it and/or Break It

Coach Takeshi was decisive: within three days he had the host of would-be players reduced to a more manageable group. Ron looked over at Steve. They had both done well. Steve was as quick as he was fast, and Ron had found renewed incentive for perfecting his mad running away skills in the form of enormous defensive linebackers.

"It is a pleasure to see the steel forged from the fire of the past days." Coach Takeshi smiled at the boys at the end of another day. "One last test remains. Tomorrow, the team returns to resume pre-season practice. We shall see how well you perform against proven veterans. Be certain to get plenty of rest tonight, and complete the final book of Musashi. If you will excuse me, I must prepare the rosters for tomorrow's skirmish."

Steve smiled at Ron. "This is it, the big one! You ready for tomorrow?"

"Ready all over." Ron grinned. He was tired of the endless drills. "Let's go get cleaned up."

A group of players watched the two walk off. One, a large man with sharp features, motioned to the others.

"What is that pip squeak doing here? He's taking up a space that should have been filled by a more deserving man, a man with size, talent, breeding, a man who belongs here."

Another big defensive back looked at him. "You have a plan, Nelson?"

Nelson Vandergraft smiled. "We'll give him a little taste of how we played ball at St. Snubbin's Prep. I have contacts on the offensive squad. When the play goes to him, this is what we'll do…"

WTOS

Ron shook his head as he got off the ground. Blocking had never been his strong suit, and that was hardly improving. In addition to Nelson Vandergraft, he had to deal with the real Miskatonic team. The other rookies were also having trouble dealing with the juniors and seniors, and they had on average two years more experience than he did.

The roar of a crowd came over the speakers. Coach Takeshi had someone in the sound box playing a recording, and giving a play by play. "This will be as much like an actual game as possible." The Coach had stated that morning. "There will be no stops to explain what happened. There will be noise and distractions."

_Distractions, that's one word for it. _The Miskatonic cheer squad was on the side lines. Since he was on the home side of the field, the main squad was behind him. They made the old Mad Dog squad seem like children. _But not KP, she can hold her own anywhere, with any…_

Marie LaTreau waved at Ron from her position on the far right. Her smile was dazzling. The tanned skin glowed in her new brown and red outfit. Everyone was light and athletic, but she seemed to defy gravity in a way even Kim did not.

"Good luck, Ronald!"

Ron was dumbstruck. _What does she want with me? _He watched her just a second too long, and Nelson Vandergraft bowled over him, sending him tumbling out of bounds where he ended up at her feet.

"Pauve ti bete." Marie's full lips pouted. She leaned over Ron, her hands on her brown thighs, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and resting on her chest, which Ron could get a glorious glimpse of from his position. "You should be more careful, Ronald."

"Yeah, heh heh, more careful, right." Another player helped him up. She sidled up to him while he shook it off.

"Don't worry, Ronald, you'll be just fine. You will make the team…it is destiny!"

Vandergraft snarled at Ron as he watched Marie talk to him. She smiled. The fool was now jealous as well as angry. He would be so easy to deal with when the time came.

Back in the huddle, Ron saw the quarterback, Martin Pressive, shook his head. "I know she jiggles when she wiggles, but you keep your mind on this backfield."

The smirks made him defensive. "Hey, I'm a one woman man, and that girl is KP!"

"Good for you." M. Pressive replied, "But for now, you're my sidekick. Okay." He looked around the huddle, "for some reason, they've keyed on the new kid here. We've picked them apart because of that. Now it's time to show them, I can throw it to anyone I want, any time I want. Stoppable, out and seven. Just turn and it'll hit you. On three!"

The squad left the huddle. A tackle slapped his thigh pad. Vandergraft nodded, and made a signal to the others. It would be a soft zone, leaving plenty of room to collapse on the receiver, Ron.

M. Pressive called out the signals. On 'Three' Ron exploded out of the backfield. An outside linebacker came up to cover him. A quick shift of his shoulders fooled the man into thinking he was going to go long. Ron turned at seven paces, and the pass hit him squarely in the chest, almost knocking the wind out of him.

The cheer squad gave out a yell, as if it were a game. Marie's smile was a bit more fixed, and her eyes seemed to be concentrating somewhere else.

"Get ready for pain!" The linebacker covering Ron was pounding toward him when his eyes went wide and he fell on his face.

Vandergraft had the angle; he planned to punch Ron as he wrapped him up. No one would see, but Ron would surely notice. Just then the wind picked up on the sidelines. The cheerleaders shrieked. One chased her skirt. Marie smiled, and did a Marilyn Monroe imitation. Vandergradt's attention shifted: was that French lace? Or was it no…

He never saw Steve plow into him at full speed. Tumbling over and over, he landed in front of Marie, who flipped her skirt, can-can style, to reveal the regulation red underneath.

"Ah, too bad, so sad, I think you've been had."

Two more defenders came at Ron. He looked one way and took off in the other. They hesitated, and were hopelessly behind when they recovered. Only one defender remained. He finally broke free from the receiver who had him tied up, and came at Ron. _It was a screen pass? _Four men were in front of Ron. Their uniforms seemed a little weird, but not nearly as strange as their gray, translucent skin and glowing yellow eyes. The safety was no coward, he only flinched for a moment, but that was all the time Ron needed. He slammed the ball down in the end zone.

A great cheer went up from his sideline. Vandergraft watched in disgust as Ron's team mates carried him off.

"You missed him, Bill." He snarled at the first man Ron had gotent past.

"Hey, somebody grabbed me…FROM THE GROUND!" There was fear in the boy's eyes. "I didn't see anybody, but I know what a hand feels like."

Vandergraft waved him off. "Henson, what was that? You had him dead to rights. Why didn't you take him out?"

"I, I just let him fake me out." The safety lied.

"And what about you?" another defender came up to Vandergraft. "You sure didn't see that block coming; you were so busy drooling over that cheerleader."

"I was not! I was…"

"Indeed, you were distracted." Coach Takeshi walked over. "It is unfortunate: you have many fine qualities. However, for this season, I would prefer if you did not use your eligibility. A year's maturing could do wonders."

"Not play?" Vandergraft steamed. "There has been a Vandergraft on the team since the first club in 1886!"

"And your cousin is using his fifth year to play, while beginning his graduate studies. You can try to continue the tradition next year."

Vandergraft could only sputter as Takeshi walked away. Marie passed by and shook her head in false sympathy.

"So, it is new blood over old this time."

"What would you know about old families?" Vandergraft snapped.

Marie walked over, smiling at a secret joke. "I might know a little more of old families than you think. Uncle Clovis used to tell me of our ancestors. Now if you will excuse me, loser, I have things to do."

WTOS

"Mom!" Kim ran into the room where Ann was reading her new book. "Ron made the team!"

"Great, honey." Ann looked up and smiled. "When will he be home?"

"Sunday." Kim could not contain her excitement. "I'll pick him up at the airport. I want to hear everything, FTF." Her expression caused Ann's eyebrow to arch. Kim noticed, and excused herself.

Ann picked the book up again. The title of the next subsection had caught her attention for some time, she just had had no time to read it yet.

**William Dyer and the Geography of the Wierd**


	7. Packing it Up

Packing it Up

**Best Fare Air Flight 873 now landing.**

Ron's phone called to him as soon as the jet came to a stop. He pulled it out to read the text message.

**Ron:**

**Waiting. Mint now, 5AK CRU.**

**KP**

The other passengers were up, collecting their carry on luggage and making their way down the aisle. Ron watched. He had had enough of searching for daylight for a while. When the line went past his seat, he got up and removed his overhead bag.

A flight attendant stood at the door, telling everyone 'good bye.' He noticed she was Native American, but missed the quick motion that put a piece of paper into a pocket of his cargo pants. After he left, she pulled out an amulet exactly like the one he had given Kim. Her lips moved as if in prayer.

He made his way down the corridor to the airport. Luckily there were people in front of him. It kept him from running.

"Ron!"

Kim had not exaggerated about the kiss. She laughed as he gasped. They kissed and babbled and babbled and kissed. Older passengers passed by them, some amused, others wistful.

"I've got something for you, KP." Ron pulled a sweater out of his bag. It was brown with red lettering. **My boy is Miski Man #37.**

"It even adds up to ten, just like you, KP."

Kim threw the sweater up on her shoulder and put her arms around Ron's neck. "Were you hanging around English majors?"

"English, history, per-med, pre-law, the whole shebang. All were Miski Men, smart enough to agree who had the most bon-diggoty girl of all."

"Nice." She kissed him again. "Now, if you're finished with the obvious, and very welcome, flattery, we need to get your luggage and get you home…by the scenic route, of course."

They picked up the luggage and went to the Sloth. The conversation was light until the Ron recounted the scrimmage, and the interest of a particular cheerleader.

"I wonder what Marie's up to." Kim frowned for a moment.

"Maybe she's just sticking up for the little guy. That Vandergraft has a chip on his shoulder, I'm sure his butler polishes it every morning."

"Well, you just remember, Miski might have your eligibility, but I have you." They pulled up the drive way to Ron's house. Kim looked at him with invitation in her eyes.

"Coming, KP? Dinner's ready."

"Nah, you need some time with the fam. I've got some things to do." He pulled close for a kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miski Man."

After he got his luggage and went to the door, she tapped the screen on her dashboard. Wade was ready.

"Wade, I want everything you can get on Marie LaTreau."

Miski

The Stoppable family jumped Ron the moment he came to the door. Once hugs and kisses were done, he walked in, Hana in his arms and Rufus in his pocket.

"Congratulations on making the team, Ronald." His mother smiled as they walked to the table. "I'm glad your coach let you come home until school starts back. I was afraid you would have to stay with the returning squad and practice."

"Coach Takeshi's cool. Besides, we have to learn the offense. The playbook's huge! He said that we're not likely to play much this year, anyway. We're mainly a reserve for injuries, or maybe something to throw the other team off balance."

"I know you often wondered, but we always meant it when we told you how proud we are of you, son." Mr. Stoppable watched Ron set Hana in her high chair. "Sometimes it takes a while for a person to get the recognition they deserve."

Ron blushed. He had never been comfortable with praise. "I'm really looking forward to school. Wish it was closer to home."

"Miskatonic is an excellent school, and you will be close to Kim." Mrs. Stoppable said as she cut up Hana's food.

"Yeah, just a couple of hours. I was afraid she'd be on the other side of the world. It's gonna be great to be college neighbors, even if we have to stomp them in football."

His parents grinned at the bravado. "I'm sure Kim might have different feelings about that." His mother smiled.

"Lucky for us she can't play. I bet she'd be great, like she is at everything."

"Everything, Ronald?" Mr. Stoppable's sly look caused his wife to give him a playful swat.

"Well, I, uh…" Everyone laughed.

While the family talked, Rufus was cleaning out his pocket. Ron had accumulated a great deal of trash. Rufus chattered to himself as he took several armfuls of candy wrappers and wadded up papers to the trash. He picked up the last rolled up piece of paper. On a whim, he rolled it open. His eyes went wide and he gasped.

**The gnome knows.**

Rufus jumped onto the table with the note. He gibbered as he tried to get Ron's attention while the boy talked to his family. A spoon tripped him, and the naked mole rat squealed as the paper fell into the gravy boat. The soy ink was true to its environmental function, dissolving without a trace.

Miski

"That's all you have, Wade?" Kim was not used to such scant information. It was as bad as the sitch with Yori.

"The LaTreaus are very old money. She was born at home, tutored there until she went to high school in Delacroix. Good grades, never any problems, apparently a model student."

"Yeah, a model student who sets off my weirdar."

"Jealin'?" Wade smirked.

"You bet!" Kim made no effort to hide it. "Something was up in Gainesville, and something's still up. I don't like her so close to my boy."

"Guess you'll just have to imprint yourself on him the next three weeks." After a second, the smirk faded as the computer genius with multiple doctorates to his name blinked and belatedly realized exactly what he had just suggested.

"Always the genius." Kim grinned. "Three weeks is a lot of time for some serious BF programming."

Miski

"Oh, man, three weeks just weren't long enough."

Kim and Ron were on a blanket at Lake Middleton. The sun was setting and they would have to go home soon. Parents were more jealous of time than usual, as their children were preparing to leave for college.

"I know." Kim snuggled up beside him and looked up at the darkening sky. "At least the bad guys have been quiet this summer."

"Everybody's got to have a little down time, you know, take a vacation." Ron put his arm around Kim. "Just hope they cut us some slack for college."

"Worried about adjusting?" Kim turned over to face him, putting a hand on his chest. "Why, Ron. You're getting more responsible by the day."

"I won't have you on hand to keep me focused."

"You'll have Rufus." They laughed. If Ron was Kim's side kick, then Rufus was Ron's, supporting every habit, good or bad, that Ron had. "Where is Rufus, anyway?"

"He's packing, giving us a little more time alone."

"Good naked mole rat." Kim rolled on top of Ron. "Now, how about some fireworks at sunset?"

Rufus entered the garage. The words on the note flashed past his eyes again. The gnome smiled blandly in its corner. The naked mole rat took a deep breath and crawled over. The gnome did nothing as he came up to it, stared into its painted eyes. He reached out and touched it. Rufus jerked his hand back in terror. As he ran, the gnome stood as motionless as ever, the light from the garage casting a large shadow behind it.

Miski

Ron stood back from the final bag, taking Hana out before closing it. He had his clothes, play book, and pictures of family and BFGF. Rufus had a small bag as well.

"Dude, this is finally it. We'll be going to college tomorrow! I thought this day would never come." He opened his phone and pressed 'one'.

"Hey, KP. Ready?"

"Almost." Kim had the closet opened, going through the secret area behind it. The battle suit was packed, along with some of the more exotic equipment. "Nice of Mr. Howell to let me park the Sloth in his estate outside Cambridge. Wade's had to rewire the garage, and update Mr. Howell's security, but at least we'll have all this if we need it."

"And a car!" Ron enthused. "It's going to be a great year, KP."

"Ron, the car's for missions and emergencies. We won't be able to just jump in and drive off whenever we want to."

"But we still have a car! And doesn't my KP needing her Ronshine count as an emergency?"

"Yes, a big one." Kim laughed at her BFBF's sense of priorities. "I'm so glad we'll be close, Ron. I never told you, but I was so worried about how we'd do if I had gone off to some college overseas while you stayed in Middleton."

"No need to worry now, you're a Crimson and I'm a Miski Man!"

Ron had to hang up or risk Hana throwing his suitcases out the window. An item in her closet caught her eye. A dvd lay in its jewel case. The familiar colors glared at her, and the words said it all.

**IT BETTER BE THE END OF THE WORLD!**

_There's already so much to pack, and this thing survived Dementor's assault on my_ closet. I can keep it here. She shut the secret door, returning the disc to darkness.

Miski

The moon shone bright over Bayou LaTreau. Alligators watched moccasins swim in the dark waters amongst the cypress trees. The waters had reclaimed the cane fields that had been the family's fortune. Only the high ground of the mansion remained. The old house stood proudly; defying the changes of man and nature.

Inside was all the elegance and decadence one would expect of a gothic novel. There were the portraits whose eyes seemed to follow the guests. Furniture and decorations with just the right amount of dust and cob webs. The Paid Maids were due next week for the quarterly cleaning. No one would be there to watch them, but no one had stolen anything after that one time.

A single light was on. Marie LaTreau was in the master bedroom. Suitcases were packed and ready for the water taxi to carry them to the airport tomorrow. The room was a mix of antique furniture and posters of rock stars. A flat screen tv was suspended at the end of the huge four poster bed.

A stereo blared zydeco as Marie packed a final bag. She danced to the music, stopping from time to time to take another spoonful of Triple Chocolate Decadence. Her body seemed to glow beneath the silk night gown.

She did a quick inventory of her bag. With a nod, she went to a wall and turned a sconce. The hidden door to the servant's bower opened with a click. An old bed was in a corner. Marie rolled back the cover of the secretary. She brushed away the spider web, its black occupant fleeing in terror from her hand. Something waited in a pigeon hole. Sharp teeth smiled as she took out the bundle.

Returning to the suit case, she unwrapped the object. It was a wax doll. The detail was amazing, but Marie was an artist.

"I need to change your uniform, don't I?" Her voice was teasing as she took a doll's comb and brushed the shock of auburn hair. Wrapping the doll up again, she placed it carefully in the suitcase.


	8. The RA with the Cool Air

Attention: This is a lovely gathering, as always we here at Miskatonic look forward to a new school year!

I would like to thank the proud assembly: HecatonshiresLM, Isamu, Pharaoh Rutin Tutin, Mad Gus, axt, Meca Vegata, AtomicFire, Tim81182, Solarstone, mkusenagi, lasyisme, King in Yellow, SolarinStudio, FortressMaximus, wnoise, Blackguard, MrDrP, Drakonis Aurours, Warbird, motorized-sasquatch, RobinfYJ, bigherb81, Joe Stoppinghem, CajunBear 73, spectre666, zardoz101, Quis Custodiet, pwykersotz, Comet Moon, Yankee Bard, screaming phoenix, lord lazy pants, Azn Pranksta, Srednasnhoj, Kwebs and whitem.

And as always, thanks to our Dean of Cat Herding, or beta, Brother Bludgeon.

Remember, Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

**8. The RA with the Cool Air **

Kim sat in her chair on Harvard Yard, surrounded by thousands fellow freshmen. She could see her parents, Nana Possible and the Tweebs in the crowd. The rents and Nana smiled their pride; the Tweebs seemed a bit too reflective. Hopefully, none of the fine architecture would suffer from their curiosity.

Harvard's first woman president, Dr. Proust, nodded at the assembly. "I am so pleased to greet such a fine incoming class. We have always prided ourselves on attracting the finest, most driven students, people who will make a difference." A few photographers snapped shots of Kim, as if the president's words were a reminder of why they were there. "And Harvard promises to provide you with the tools needed to realize your full potential."

Kim joined the polite applause. While she did not want to admit it, she was lonely. Her family was there, but someone else was not. A certain blond headed boy with a goofy smile and a warm heart. _Why are all the other Ivy League Schools holding their entry ceremonies today? All of them but Yale, of course. Hey, I'm already referring to Yale like I used to talk about Lowerton. Won't Mr. Howell be proud? _

_I can't believe that my first round of applications were all out of the country! It's like I wasn't even thinking about us. _A smile touched her face. _Ron's only about three hours away; much closer than it looked like he'd be a few months ago. I wonder how things are going at Miskatonic. He's really been looking forward to passing through that gate._

WTOS

Ron took his place with the other 'S' freshmen on the sidewalk as they filed toward the Van Wickle Gate. "This is it, Rufus." He whispered to his friend. "We're on our way!"

Rufus nodded and straightened his collar and tie. He pointed to his right. "Library!"

Ron looked over to the John Hay. The building cast a great shadow. Gray steps led up to the doors, worn down by generations of scholars seeking wisdom of every sort. Ron had spent most of his school years avoiding libraries whenever possible, and this one was for the most part off limits anyway. Why did he feel his feet wanting to turn right? It took a little effort to keep on the sidewalk.

The ceremony ran smoothly. Parents filed along to the gate and took their photographs, and then moved aside for the next set of proud mothers and fathers. Just inside the gate stood representatives from the various departments, along with the president who would address the new students on the Green.

Anxious eyes scanned the sky. The morning had begun cloudless, but now a growing mass of darkness swirled over the Gate. Mrs. Stoppable looked at her husband. He shared her confusion.

"I have to admit, the odds against such a turn in the weather are steep. And the pattern is odd too. From what I understand, storms here tend to come from the west. This one is coming out of nowhere."

Wind whipped into Ron's face as he approached the Gate. Rufus strained to hold onto his tie. No one heard the clank as the chain let go of the Gate. The faculty held onto their mortar boards as their gowns flapped furiously. Thorndike and Lichfield stared at each other with the oddest expression.

The Gate strained to slam shut, but a power beyond the winds kept it securely in place. No one noticed the toddler who giggled as she held the ancient iron bars. She even raised one hand to wave at her brother. He waved back as he made his way through, his body bent into the wind.

In moments the winds died down. The clouds faded, as if withering in defeat.

WTOS

"Well, this is it, Stoughton Hall. My room's in here."

The Possible family made their way up the stairs along with other families settling their children in. Mr. Dr. Possible frowned as a rather good-looking young man rounded a corner with his bags.

"We did just fine with segregated dorms when I was at MIST."

"MIST was for the most part self-segregated, dear." Mrs. Dr. Possible grinned, recalling her husband's socially awkward classmates. _If I recall, you needed just a little prodding yourself. _

"And the floors are segregated." Kim said encouragingly. She neglected to say that there were no room checks. Some things Dads just did not need to know. "Here's my room."

Room 223 stood open. Nana made the family stop and pose at the door while she took a picture. Security had done a good job keeping photographers away from the dorm to allow the students a chance to settle in.

Someone was already in the room. A willowy blond turned from her decorating and flashed a smile.

"Why, hello there." Her drawl was soft and friendly. "I'm Savannah Venable." She extended her hand.

"Kim Possible." Kim took her hand. "These are my Mom and Dad, Tim and Jim, and Nana."

"Pleased to me ya'll." Savannah nodded graciously. "Why don't I just step outside while ya'll settle your daughter in?"

"Thank you." Mrs. Dr. Possible replied. "It was very nice meeting you."

It took very little time to put everything away in the small room. All too soon it was time to hug and say goodbye.

"You'll be so far away." Her Dad held on like he never wanted to let her go.

"If you need me, just call."

"We're supposed to say that." Mom laughed softly. She managed to hide the tear as she kissed her daughter.

"I get Kim's room!" Tim and Jim yelled at the same time.

"Boys, there will be no squabbling over the spoils of your sister's going to college." Dad turned back to Kim. "Your room will be waiting, just like you left it."

_Why does that mean so much? _"Thanks. I love you guys."

Kim took a deep breath as she watched them take the stairs down.

"It's hard to say 'goodbye', isn't it?" Savannah came up behind her, holding out a tissue. "I cried and cried."

"Thanks." Kim dabbed at her eyes and sat down on her bed.

"Now, let me continue with the introduction. I'm Savannah Venable, of the…"

"Savannah Venables?" Kim raised a wry eyebrow.

The blond laughed. "No, silly, of the Atlanta Venables. I do have a cousin Atlanta in Savannah but, well…She married beneath her, a bank teller. It should have been a vice president, at least a senior loan officer! She'll just have to work on his ambition. What does your Father do, Kim?"

"He's a rocket scientist…and Mom's a brain surgeon." _Hope I didn't sound defensive._

Savannah smiled. "How marvelous! You'll excuse me if I came in early, but I had to have this side of the room. You see, my family has always used this room ever since the first member, George Washington Venable, entered Harvard in 1798. The family's come here ever since, excepting a four-year gap we don't talk about…when we're up here. That oak outside the window as planted by GW, and generations of Venables have used it to sneak out for all sorts of scandalous behavior."

"Well, I'm the first Possible to attend Harvard." _I hope this isn't Bonnie all over again. Ron's right: I face down superfreaks no prob, but give me a social sitch with someone my own age and I'm all nerves. _

"You won't be the last, I'm sure." Kim's roommate laughed. "As my grandfather says, Fair Harvard has a way of getting under your skin and into your blood."

WTOS

"Well, that's everything." Mrs. Stoppable closed the last suitcase and looked around. The room was comfortable, if a little small. She could not help but smile at the lack of posters, and the profusion of photographs. Everywhere one looked you could see Ron's family, or his girl friend. "I'm glad to see you won't forget us in the rush to knowledge."

"Yeah, the Ronman is all about the family, and the BFGF." Ron took a look at the senior prom picture on his bed stand. "I'll call her as soon as I get a chance. We have a hall meeting tonight."

"And we need to get someone back to the Arkham Arms for a nap." Mr. Stoppable stopped spinning Hana around to let his daughter hug her brother.

"Bye, Hana."

"Bye, Brother."

"Hey, she says it clearer every day!" The parents closed in for a group hug. Ron and Rufus basked in the familial warmth; it would be a while before they had another chance.

"Bye, Mom, bye, Dad."

"Bye, Ron. Rufus, take care of him."

The naked mole rat gave the Stoppables a thumbs up. "Hink, you bet."

His parents and sister vanished down the hallway, and the young man felt the return of a lonely little boy. "It's just us, Rufus, two dudes alone in a whole new world. College!" He looked at the darkness of the adjoining room. "I wonder where my roomie is? The light's still off, did he not show?"

"The light bothers my eyes."

A voice floated into the room. It sounded dry, tired. Ron walked up to the doorway.

There was a click, and red light pushed back the darkness a little. Drapes covered the windows and walls. The bed lay hidden behind an ad hoc canopy. They seemed old, as did the books on the desk. Of all the desks Ron had seen, this was the only one without a computer.

His roommate rose. He was tall and unnaturally thin, with pale skin and lank hair. He wore some sort of old style robe.

"I'm Ron Stoppable." Ron stepped in smiling. "And this is Rufus."

"I am…I am pleased to meet you. My name is Makarash."

"Hey," Ron's smile grew larger, "can I call you Mak? I've never known a Mak. I like what you've done with the room. Definitely not domestic."

Makarash grinned, revealing small, sharp teeth. "No, I traveled a distance to be here. My family has a connection to Miskatonic, though I am the first to be a student here. I am so glad they put us in Hope College. A new building would have killed me…as if this can be considered anything but new, built not even three centuries ago."

Rufus eyed the man carefully. He received a close examination in return. "You know, there is a no pet policy, Ron."

"Rufus isn't a pet, he's family." Boy and rodent slapped palms together. "The third part of Team Possible."

"Ah, yes, Team Possible." The voice became sibilant. "I have heard much about the heroics of Kim Possible. Quite the fe…girl. And you are her comrade-in-arms?"

"And boyfriend." Ron puffed out his chest. He expected a remark at this point regarding how he did not seem to fit the mold of proper boy for a smoking hot babe world saver. Instead Makarash bent over and pulled a copy of 'Human' out from under a leather bound book. It had a rare full picture of the two of them.

"I suppose you two make an acceptable pair. You will forgive me for taking this room without asking, but the Resident Advisor's suite is next to us."

"So, what's the problem there?"

"During the heat of the day, nothing. Now that night has fallen, put your hand on the far wall."

Ron walked back into his room and touched the wall. Rufus did the same. Both pulled their hands away in confusion. "It's cold!"

"Unbearably so." Makarash sighed as he began slipping on a heavy coat. "Fortunately we only have one required meeting in his room. You can go there whenever you want, of course, with any question or problem, which is what a resident advisor is for. Tonight is simply an introductory meeting."

Another student stopped in the main doorway. "Time for the meeting."

WTOS

Twenty young men sat on the floor in the RA's suite. They included valedictorians, class presidents, achievers of all stripes, and Ron Stoppable.

"I'm Ron, this is Rufus. We're here on the Solomon Kane Fellowship, and no, I don't have a course of study selected yet. Don't want to restrict ourselves yet. Miskatonic chose me, which is fine because my beautilicious BFGF Kim Possible is at Harvard, so we're practically neighbors, just like at home."

"I've read a lot about her, she sounds like a real bearcat." The RA gave Ron a smile. He was another odd duck. His hair was parted down the middle and slicked down. Whatever he used caused his hair to shine. Ron remembered enough from his hair care days to consider that out of the ordinary. The clothes were also different, the pants came down to mid-calf and he wore patent leather shoes.

If Mak's room was out of a travelogue, the RA's was a museum piece. From the gramophone to the telephone, everything seemed old, older than what his grandparents used. There were photographs on the wall, all black and white. Many were of severe snow covered landscapes.

"My name is Stanley Klinger," the RA smiled, teeth standing out against pale face. "I've been here a few years doing post doctoral work, and the University has allowed me the chance to share my experience with another generation of students. I'm not here to be a fire extinguisher or a wet blanket, but I need to lay a couple of ground rules tonight. We have a strict no smoking policy, so if any of you have that problem, we have programs to help you quit. And whatever my personal feelings are, we also do not permit underage drinking. So don't let me find any dead soldiers lying around.

"Now, dames." He chuckled, "while we don't do bed checks, we have a very strict policy regarding harassment, and take complaints very seriously. They will be investigated, so be on your best behavior. Frankly, that works better than anything on them!"

Ron somehow stayed awake as the man covered a few more minor details. Rufus did not, slinking down into his pocket. _Yeah, you can sleep, you're in a pocket! I wish I had a jacket in here. I'm not the only guy hunched over in here, what's the temp, forty?_

"I'm here all through the day. I don't take or teach classes. Evenings I'm a little harder to find. I have unlimited access to the library system, and I'm something of an owl. So if you need me, just drop in! Any questions? Good, you guys need to get a little sleep before you register and meet with your advisors."

WTOS

"Hey, KP." Ron sat at his desk making a parade of paper clips. He felt quite collegiate doing so. The phone rested on his shoulder as he talked.

"Hi, Ron." Kim lay back on her bed. When the phone rang, Savannah gave Kim a conspiratorial nod and stepped out. "How's Miski? Did the march through the Gate go all right?"

"It's all good! I'm in. I'm unpacked, and I'm ready to go!" the smile faded as he looked down at Rufus. "I wish I was with you."

Kim's smile was sad. "Same here. I wish I had pointed that out when I was trying to get you to study harder. "It's just not the same without you."

"Same here." Ron had a picture of the two of them at hand. "But I'm always just a quick ride or phone call away."

"Don't think I won't take advantage of that." The old oak tree outside swayed, as if inviting Kim to climb down for a quick drive to Arkham. "I might need help keeping the paparazzi at bay. They've had me trapped in the dorm since I got here! And you?"

"Oh, I…haven't seen anybody." Ron's slight frown vanished as Rufus pantomimed reading. "But I did see a copy of a picture of us in 'Human' and you could even see all of me! My roommate had it. He's nice, but a bit odd. Seemed a little unsure of himself: I'll just have to take him under the Ronman's wing, show him the ropes, get him used to the life of a BMOC. How's your roommate?"

"She seems nice…"

"Kim, what's wrong?" His tone made her smile.

"Nothing. She's just fine, though I don't know if I fit the proper social profile. At least my ancestors were too busy settling Colorado to join Sherman."

"Hey, my Kimila has walked with presidents and queens. Nobody's too good for her."

"Thanks, Ron. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"That's one experiment I'll keep you from trying." A sudden yawn caused him to knock over the first rank of paper clip musicians."

"It sounds like my Miski Man's winding down." Kim looked at her watch. "It's late. We both have registration tomorrow. I better let you get some sleep."

"Sleep, sounds good. Love you, KP."

"Love you, Ron." Kim turned off her phone and walked over to the window. It slid open. She saw a long line of names carved into the side of the window sill: Venable after Venable after Venable. Savannah had already added her name. The tree was within easy reach.

"I'll probably take you up on that offer sometime soon." She grinned to the tree. The smile did not fade as she shut the window and prepared for bed.

As Ron put down his own phone, he failed to notice a stirring on the other side of the wall. Mak stood against the wall by the doorway, his face set in concentration. He crept back to his chair when the conversation ended.

WTOS

Ron was too excited to sleep soundly, so when he heard the noise in the wee hours of the morning he went to the wall and pressed an ear up against it. He pulled back with a shudder, and wished he had a stethoscope.

Old music played, he could hear the scratch of the record. Two voices bantered in the RA's room.

"Ah, this room works just like a tonic on me."

"Hey, Dr. Munoz knew what he was doing."

"Just be careful, Stanley, we need you to keep an eye on the boy."

"I'll do that, sir, and you can take that to the bank."

There was more laughter. "You make me feel so young. Sadly, I must go now."

Ron went to his door and got down on the floor in hopes of seeing something of the visitor. The door was too flush with the floor to allow for any detail. He could only hear the soles of shoes as the man walked away.


	9. Study Buddy

9. Study Buddy

Ann Possible sat back in her chair as she watched James unpack. _A few years ago I would've been helping, the phone resting against my cheek, but cel phones aren't big enough for that. So much for progress. I still don't want one of those ear clips. _"So you had a little bit of weather, Barbara?"

Barbara Jo Stoppable sat by the Arkham Arms' indoor pool, watching her husband play with Hana as the toddler splashed in the kiddie pool. She had taken the next two days off, and as for her husband, while he had a couple of things that needed doing; he was an actuary and could work anywhere. Ann, on the other hand, had a round of surgeries that could not be put off. "Yes, we had a bit of a surprise there. It was sudden but it blew over pretty quickly."

"Funny we didn't get anything." Ann shook her head. _Cambridge isn't that far from Arkham. We should have at least have heard the thunder. _

"It was beautiful after that. Ron is so happy to be at Miskatonic. I just hope he remembers to not spend too much time commuting to Cambridge."

"Don't worry; Kim is too proud of him to let him slack off on his studies." The two women smiled at the thought of Kim in full study mode. There was no way she would let Ron fall behind at college.

"We're so proud of him." Barbara replied. "He's always had so much potential."

"Kim's always called him her 'Potential Boy'." Ann could not help but chuckle. She had been a supporter of the two getting together well before the fact. _And their school situation could not be better. Close but not too close. _"I'm sure they'll have each other's backs, like always."

"I hope so." Barbara sighed. Ann shared her concern. No matter how many times they had saved the world, they were still the little ones who needed consoling when they scarped their knees, at least in their mothers' minds. "They're so far away. Ron says you've been reading up on his school."

"Just an old book a professor told me about. Ron should definitely feel at home at Miskatonic, they aren't obsessed with being normal there."

"And how is Kim doing?" Barbara asked.

Ann smiled. "Something tells me she'll have an interesting time with her new roomie."

WTOS

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Kim's eyes fluttered at the chirpy voice of her roommate. "What time…"

"It's seven. Now, I know your registration isn't until nine, but I thought you'd like some time to freshen up, and then we could go have breakfast. There wasn't time to get to talk last night."

"Sure." Kim rolled out of her bed and turned off the alarm. _Only lost fifteen minute's sleep and it would be nice to get to know Savannah before classes take over. _"Give me a few minutes." She yawned.

Soon they were at having a light breakfast in the cavernous Annenberg Hall, a portion of Memorial Hall. Kim had no idea what Savannah meant when she mumbled something about Memorial Hall being a 'First Place Trophy' until she noticed the regimental flags in cases along the walls. _Faulkner was right: the past isn't even past._ While she went on at times, Savannah seemed genuinely interested in Kim and her family.

"So much genius in one family." Savannah marveled. "That could be intimidating."

"Strategories nights are interesting." Kim smiled. "Especially since there's no such thing as a Possible who can stand to lose."

"You said you don't plan to follow your mother or father. Do you have a major lined up yet?"

"International Law. It's a nat for my interests and experience."

"Saving the world, yes, I can see how that would suit you. We may both be here for some time. After all, once you're in Fair Harvard, where else would you want to go for graduate school?"

"Sounds like you have your education planned out."

"Well, I came here for a MBA, not a Mrs." Savannah laughed. "I'm not so sure what I'll do with it, though. My Father's business is insurance, he's Senior Vice President of New South Life and Casualty. But I'm also interested in the company on my Mother's side."

"What's that?"

"Coca-cola, Grandmother Scarlett's a Hazeltine. Her husband was head of European distribution for years and years. He's a dashing figure…the Count von Droste Schattenburg! They met in Berlin just before the Wall went up; they sure had some exciting times!"

_Nobility, I might have known. _"Bet the family castle is something."

"It was." Savannah's lips pursed. "But unfortunately it was destroyed in the War."

"Allied Bombers?"

"No, Turkish Cavalry; just seems like whenever anybody on that side of the family had a nice place somebody rode up with a torch." For a moment Savannah seemed angry, until her face broke out into a grin. In a moment they were both laughing.

"Oh, my! I better let you go, Kim. You'll need to get to registration. My time is at three. Maybe we'll be able to meet for dinner. We could always see what's off campus."

"Sounds great." Kim stood up and took her tray. _Maybe I should call Ron and make sure he's up. _She was not surprised when he did not pick up until the fifth ring.

"H-Hello?"

"Hey, Miski Man, wake up." Kim teased. From the noise, he was pulling sheets up to cover himself, even though she was well over an hour away.

"Rufus, it's eight thirty! Why did you turn off the alarm? What do you mean I smashed it? Guess there's enough time for a shower and a Zap-em for breakfast." The sound of Ron rushing about caused Kim to smile as she walked to registration.

"Thanks for calling, KP."

"Hey, I'm going to make sure my Miski Man keeps up. I don't want you needing a tutor."

"No worry there, the Ronman's here to show the world what he can do."

"Just make sure you buy another alarm today."

"Got it covered, KP. I'll just get the back-up out of the box."

"You have a back-up? I'm impressed."

"Really?" _I bet he's blushing. _"Well, I'm on my own up here."

"Not quite." She corrected him. "I've got your back."

"Same back at you. Thanks."

After a few more words Kim arrived at registration. _No way I'll hear anything in there. _"I'll talk to you later, Ron. Love you."

"Love you too, KP."

WTOS

Ron indeed had just enough time to get to registration. Never one for details outside the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised with the ease of the process. His Fellowship paid for his tuition, fees, room, board and books. _That leaves some major fundage for the Spoil Kim Foundation. _In no time he was walking out, sorting through his papers. An envelope caught his eye.

**See Dr. Thorndike at 207 Shirley Miller House concerning your Fellowship.**

Tables lined the way outside of the registration sight. Various clubs and organizations solicited new members. Ron had never been much of a joiner. _I wonder how many Kim will sign up for at Harvard? _Then one table caught his eye.

A pair of bokken lay with their tips touching in front of the sign up sheets. A banner said **Miskatonic Kendo Society **in delicate calligraphy. Like many other tables, this one was occupied by an attractive young woman. _No, she's nothing like the others. _She was Japanese, with long, jet-black hair. Coupled with the shape of her face and complexion, Ron knew she was the Japanese idea of classic beauty.

"Hello." Her smile was dazzling.

Ron looked to either side. _She's smiling at me. _"Uh, hello. I'm…"

"You are Ro…" her eyes darted to the side. "…I mean, what is your name; person whom I neither know nor have heard of?"

"I'm Ron Stoppable." A figure popped out of the pocket of his cargo pants. "This is Rufus." The naked mole rat bowed.

"It is an honor to meet you. I am Nagema Amika."

Ron smiled. "Amika that means 'pretty' doesn't it? Your folks were right on there!"

"You are correct, and I am impressed you knew which name is my given name. Have you studied our culture for a long time?"

"Well, I did go to…" Rufus' punch to his leg brought him up short. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've visited a few times…just educational, not like I'm, uh…Hey, nice bokken!" He grabbed one up and assumed a stance, almost whacking a passerby on the head. "Sorry, dude, my bad."

"Excellent stance." Amika was looking down at his feet. "We would be honored if you joined our humble organization."

"Gee, I'd like to; but I'm on the Football team. I don't think I'll have time."

"Who said you would not?" Coach Takeshi was suddenly behind him. "We practice four days a week, and the Society meets on Wednesdays, our day off. It is my honor to be its faculty sponsor."

"It would be my honor to join." Ron took the pen and signed up. Rufus jumped out and put his name down in Japanese. "Show off." His owner teased.

"Excellent!" Takeshi smiled. "Then I shall see you on two fields of honor."

Something about Takeshi's smile made Ron soar, like when he pleased Sensei. "I have to go see Dr. Thorndike about my Fellowship. Thank you, Coach, nice meeting you, Amika."

As soon as he left the table was folded up and put away. Those with an interest in Kendo continued to visit the Kendo Club stand as they had been doing all morning.

WTOS

"Please, Ronald, sit down."

Ron sat in the overstuffed chair in the office. As an Emeritus, Thorndike retained his old office, with its grand collection of book cases and stacks of papers. The old professor placed a small box atop his desk and opened it. It held a small key on a necklace.

"This is to stay with you as much as is humanly possible. During game days it is understood you cannot wear it. Otherwise, it is your responsibility to keep it on your person."

Ron turned the key over and over in his hand. It looked incredibly old. "What's it to?"

"It goes to the Solomon Kane room in the John Hay. The holder of the Fellowship always has a key. Understand, this Fellowship is older than the school itself. There are some portions of it we no longer continue. Among the things earlier recipients received were a rapier, a brace of flint lock pistols, and the services of a 'comely lass of pleasing disposition and unblemished Godly character'. Our Mister Kane felt all of those were necessary for the work intended. That work has changed now, Miskatonic protects his collection; you are here to learn."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome." The old man smiled. "Now, unless things have changed, I assume like most undergraduates, you need to rush over to your advisor's office."

Ron looked at his schedule and jumped out of his seat. "I gotta run, thanks, Dr. Thorndike!"

Thorndike watched as the boy rushed away. _I hope your other skills and training make a rapier and pistols redundant. _

WTOS

"You're my advisor?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I hope you aren't disappointed." Dr. Spengler smiled. "The Solomon Kane Fellow is always advised by a member of the Philosophy or the Religious Studies Department. I'm glad to get to advise you: some would not understand your needs or abilities. Now, let's go over your options for your first semester."

Ron had selected courses before, but high school was nothing compared to college. There were so many, covering almost every imaginable topic. One caught his attention immediately, and gave him his first taste of the dreadful term prerequisite.

"Yes, you'll have to take the 'Literary Traditions' before you can take 'Social Commentary in the Fearless Ferret'. Dr. Marris teaches it, you'll like her. The Fearless Ferret course is offered only in the Fall Semester, but you need a literary course anyway."

"You're the doctor." Ron nodded. "Thanks. Guess we better go now."

"I'll be seeing you, Ronald."

WTOS

"Wow, it sounds like you have some interesting courses, Ron. I'm really looking forward to 'Societies of the World'. It's one of eight set courses I'll have to take while an undergrad." Kim liked the enthusiasm in Ron's voice as he described his coming first semester.

"Undergrad? Whoa, KP, already thinking about grad school?"

"Well, you know me, always thinking ahead."

"Did you sign up for any clubs? I know how you like to keep busy."

"Just one: there's a self-defense class that might let me help with instructions. They seemed real happy to have me join. Other than that, between classes and cheer practice I won't have much free time. How about yourself? What did you find?"

"The Miskatonic Kendo Society. My Coach is the sponsor and he said it would be an honor to have me join. It meets on our weekday off from practice. Amika said I have an excellent stance."

"Amika? I thought your coach was Takeshi?"

"Yeah, Amika's a Junior. She seems really nice."

"She?" Kim could not keep all of the frost out of her voice. _A Junior?!_

Ron reacted immediately. "Oh, I'm sure a girl like her has a boyfriend. Besides, I'm taken."

"Just remember that." Kim grinned. Savannah and I are going to Mr. Bartley's for a burger. She says that generations of her family have gone there."

"Sounds great. I need to see if I can get Mak out some time. He seems to be a real wall flower. We'll see if the Solomon Kane Fellow can bring him out. You know they used to give you a pair of pistols, a rapier and hire you a serving girl?"

"I'm glad they've moved on with the times. Savannah's back, so I have to go." The Georgia girl obligingly stepped back out so the two could exchange affections. Before she stepped back in Kim made another quick call.

"Wade, get me everything on Nagema Amika."

WTOS

The next morning Rufus just barely saved the alarm clock. Ron staggered to the shower, went to breakfast and made it to his room just in time. Dr. Spengler was right; he took an instant liking to Dr. Marris. Her lecture style was informed and informal.

"It's easily forgotten that most literature is above all, entertaining is some way, and was meant to be so by its creator. Your assignment for next week's class is to read a work from ancient times, preferably something known to be preliterate in origin. The Illiad is an example: people would sit and listen for hours to the tales of Homer. If you pay attention, you should see why these works were copied and read enough to survive.

"Since you're all new to Miskatonic, I want to help you go get to know your fellow students, so each of you will have a partner here. Amil, your partner is Ron."

After class dismissed Amil came over to Ron. He was a handsome young man who came up almost nose to nose to Ron and shook his hand with great enthusiasm.

"Ronald Stoppable! It is such an honor to meet you! You know my Father."

WTOS

Kim fell back on her bed and laughed. "Oh, I remember his Dad, Ras al-Ghul, we met him our sophomore year. Head of a vast criminal organization, overseeing up a conspiracy generations in the making; laser battle in the sewers of a forgotten city in the Arabian Desert, so not the drama.

"And you two are going to the library tonight to check out some ancient poetry? Glad to see you aren't procrastinating this time."

"Amil's pretty persistent. He thinks he knows some really cool readge that nobody else has heard of. Says his Dad's something of an expert on old books. Wish we were with you guys, going to burger places." Rufus sighed his agreement.

"That was last night. It's time to study now. You keep on track; I don't intend to tutor you when we get together next."

"Maybe we can read from the Book of Love." Rufus shook his head at Ron. Kim giggled.

"You're positively hopeless, Ron."

"No, the Ronster's all about great expectations. Hey, that's a book too! I gotta run. Love ya, KP."

"Love you, too, Ron."

WTOS

Ron followed Amil across the road and toward the John Hay. "You sure this is all right, dude? I mean, the John Hay is a graduate and faculty library."

"I have a card for the door. Besides, is it not right for the Solomon Kane Fellow to have access to the library which holds whatever it is he guards?"

"No wonder you're here, Amil. That makes a lot of sense." Ron could not deny it, he had felt drawn by the John Hay the first time he saw it. And now the attraction was even stronger. Rufus stood on his shoulder, as affected as he was. The key seemed to rub his chest with every step. _Is it trying to stop me, or encourage me?_

Amil swiped his card. The door opened. "Ah, good, a few minutes to midnight. We should hit the room just in time."

"You aimed for midnight?"

"Well, after eleven, you need a card to enter the Library. It should be fairly empty. We'll be able to read in the room without interruption." They walked quietly across the marble floor of the library. A few diligent students moved about. Some were going to the desk to check out books. Ron's experience with undercover work helped him remain calm as he walked across the floor.

While he had never been there himself, Amil moved like he knew exactly where he was going. He led Ron to a set of stairs which took them to the bottom floor. No one was around. The key weighed heavily on Ron. He led them though the stacks to come to a large wooden door in the center of the room. A small silver plaque was bolted into the oak.

**The Solomon Kane Collection: by appointment only**

"Midnight!" Amil whispered. "Now, Ron, open the door!"

If the door was old, the lock was positively ancient. Ron fumbled with the key. The click of the lock opening almost caused him to jump. A puff of air greeted him as he opened the door. _Like the room exhaled._

The threshold caught Ron's eye. An arc was on the floor at the door, delicate silver laid into the floor itself. Strange symbols were etched into the metal.

"Must have been Masons." Ron looked at Rufus. The naked mole rat nodded. They walked in. Looking over his shoulder, Ron noticed Amil stood at the threshold, an expression of awe on his face.

"Come on, dude. You won't get into any trouble."

"Thank you. It somehow seemed right to get your permission." His study buddy stepped in after him. They gasped at the room.

The outside walls were square, but the room itself was circular. Great shelves stood out from the walls in a circle, old books carefully stacked in them. Another circle was in the center of the room, enclosing a large desk, and a set of glass topped stands. Books of indescribable age rested in glass cases designed to protect them from the elements.

Across from the desk on the wall was a mantle. A portrait hung above it with a pistol on either side of the portrait and a sword set on the front of the mantle. The man's features were set in a dour expression. He was dressed in black. His right hand rested on what had to be a Bible, while the left gripped the hilt of a sword. Amil walked over and looked up.

"Father said to send you his greetings." He turned to Ron and shrugged. "I have no idea why I was to say that, but the way Father talks about Kane; you'd think they had met before. But then again, Father talks that way about a lot of people."

He turned back to the center of the room, his eyes wide as he went from stand to stand. "What treasures! The Book of Eibon and the Scrolls of Skelos! Here is The King in Yellow! Father can quote it in its entirety. Ah, a copy of Alorri Zrokros' Book of the Elders! I always thought the last copy had been burned by Noah on Mount Ararat." The next one looked familiar to Ron. "This is the Mystic Text of the Malaysian Monkey Cult!"

"Yeah, seen that one before."

"You've seen another copy?" Amil's eyes lighted. "Do you know where it is?"

Ron's mind drifted back to his attic room at home and a desk which rested one leg on a rather old book, as much to keep the pages closed as the desk level. A screech echoed in Ron's mind. "Not off hand."

"And here it is." An awe-struck Amil whispered, running his fingertips along the final display case. "The Al Azif of Abdul Alhazred! This is the book!"

Ron was dubious. "Uh, dude, I can't read Arabic."

"It is not in Arabic." Amil went on excitedly. "The language is older than Arabic, or the tongue of Sheba. It's older than any language of Man! The legends it holds…the poems! If what Father says is correct we'll get 'As' for sure!"

"Coolio!" Ron's grin faded. "But how do we read it?"

"According to Father the Al Azif is written in the language of Wisdom. Those of deep learning, or pure heart, can understand it. Abdul Alhazred translated it into Arabic for a wider audience. The holder of the Kane Fellowship should by definition be able to read it."

_And I'm that Fellow. _Ron took up the challenge. Once again there was a lock. This one also opened with his key. When he pulled up the lock, a number of buttons greeted him. One lit up. He pushed it and there was a stirring under the glass. A small display panel under the buttons flashed a message.

**Argon gas removed. Container ready for opening.**

Another button prompted Ron. Claps released and Ron set his hands on the glass and lifted it back on its hinges. An almost inaudible hiss greeted him as air rushed around the book. Amils's smile encouraged him to reach down and open the ancient tome. Although he placed his fingers so as to open it at the beginning, it came open at almost two-third of the way through.

"Guess we start here." Ron shrugged and took a deep breath. His voice cracked.

"Inz c'lth gelb flngn."

Time seemed to freeze in the room. Amil straightened up, fear in his eyes. The fear faded, replaced by pain, followed by an expression of dark anticipation. His chest seemed to swell.

Rufus' eyes widened as he saw Amil. Ron continued to read. A torrent of syllables poured from his lips. To his amazement, Rufus realized he could somehow understand their meaning.

**All in innocence, new friends seek wisdom and find instead darkness. Guided by his Father, a man of long years and sinister ambitions, the one betrays the other, he who carries the sword of one long dead.**

Darkness enveloped Ron's study buddy. Now and then a hand or arm would become briefly visible, less human each time. At last a twisted, hulking form emerged. The size dwarfed Amil, the scaly arms and legs were masses of knotted muscle. His once pleasant face had become a nightmare of bristles, spikes, and fangs with gleaming yellow eyes. It was horrible beyond description.

The naked mole rat squealed in terror. He sprang onto Ron's shoulder, pulling on his owner's face. His master gave no response as he continued to read words he did not know, could not know. Eldritch phrases rose into the night. Frost covered all glass and metal surfaces. Everyone's breath left vapors.

**The sacrifice of one dear to the guardian is now consumed, giving permanence to the transformation. His flesh and blood will make the Unhallowed One invincible!**

Monster and prey locked eyes. One smiled with his fangs, the other shrieked in fear.

An enormous hand reached out. Rufus sprang from Ron's shoulder and ran to the top of the book cases. Talons gouged the wood as the demon grasped at the naked mole rat again and again.

A massive foot dragged across the silver circle. The rear claw cut through the metal. The silver dimmed a bit. At the Old Arkham Congregational Church, a bell tolled though no one pulled its rope.

Finally Rufus jumped from a book case to the mantle. He knew the pistols would be empty but the rapier might still be sharp. Before he could reach down to it the demon's hand grabbed at him. He jumped back, striking something under the portrait frame.

A gnarled staff covered in strange carvings rolled out. Rufus scrambled on top of the wood, his feet back peddling. Suddenly he could see the creature's face. The staff shot out from under Rufus' feet, striking the beast in the forehead. It connected with a crack and a blinding flash of silver white light.

The creature staggered back. "Oww" it whimpered, raising a hand to the welt in the middle of its forehead. Scaled fingers acted like sandpaper as they rubbed. Skin flaked, then cracked, and finally sloughed off. Scales, horns, fangs and wings crumbled and fell away. Amil looked up to Rufus, still rubbing his head.

"Did this hit me?" He bent over and picked up the staff. Rufus nodded, looking into Amil's eyes. What he saw made him smile. With Rufus guiding it, the staff was returned to its place on the mantel. The naked mole rat hopped onto the offered palm and the two turned to face Ron as he looked up from the Al Azif.

"I don't know, Amil. This seems pretty stiff."

"I think you're right." The study buddy agreed. "Let's put it back and check out the stacks."

WTOS

Another freshman crossed the grounds to a building normally off limits. She had no problem seeing in the darkness. The door to the Ann Mary Brown Memorial Library opened to her touch. Marie LaTreau passed through the entry and reception area to a set of heavy bronze doors. They swung open, allowing her to enter the room without breaking her stride.

Dr. Lichfield bowed his head ever so slightly. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I thought you'd be more comfortable meeting here." He ran his hand along the crypt.

"It is a touch of home." The young woman agreed. "So they hold receptions in this building? I did not expect such style here."

"We are full of surprises. And speaking of surprises, things have moved along much faster than anticipated. I presume you heard the bell?"

"Yes, what did that mean?"

"That our boy has already blundered. Who else could it be? The outer seal remains unbroken, neither the Great Old Ones nor any of their minions may cross into the room. The inner seal however is severed. At long last the Al Azif is within our grasp!"

"And this is great how? We've had a copy of the Necronomicon in my family for generations."

"Yes, a copy: an inferior Latin translation of an inferior Arabic translation. Surely you know of the repeated disasters that have befallen those who peruse those unhallowed pages? Failure after failure, but what else could happen, when one attempts to create a masterpiece with broken tools?

"But now, thanks to this buffoon, the work of Solomon Kane will at last be undone!" The wizened face grinned in triumph. "Soon we have the secret to returning the Great Old Ones, who will rule the world through us!

"And by the way, Marie, I know you have plans of your own, but I advise you to forget them. You will be a most important part of our plan; it would be a shame if your ambitions prevented you from assuming your place in history. Please have a bit more patience."

Marie's face remained unreadable. Lichfield chose to interpret that positively. "Now if you will excuse me, I must retire. Tomorrow I will enter the central collection of the John Hay for the first time. Stay and enjoy the ambiance if you wish, the doors will lock themselves on the way out."

"Coo-yon." Marie muttered after he left. She walked around the crypt, running a cool hand along the cold marble. "I'll tell you since I doubt you'll tell anyone. Things are already in motion. Long before he can put whatever plan he has into motion, mine will be completed! The poor fools think they are expressing their dissent, while they open the door! Poor Lichfield will be most put out with the way things go, but then, he has concerns which no longer bother you or me."

She smiled as she turned to leave. "Sleep while you can."

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

Savannah's maternal grandparents come courtesy of MGM Studios

Ras Al-Ghul is from DC Comics

The Book of Eibon was penned by Clark Ashton Smith

The King in Yellow was created by Robert W Chambers

The Scolls of Skelos come from Robert E Howard, as does Solomon Kane

The Book of the Elders was by Karl Edward Wagner, the contents were very Lovecraftian

I think we know who came up with the Al Azif


	10. At the Mixer of Madness, Part 1

10. At the Mixer of Madness pt. 1

Kim couldn't help but sit and stare, eyes wide at the sheer chaos before her. The figure standing at the closet door seemed to be in constant motion and not even she, with all her training, could hope to follow every movement.

Skirts, blouses, sundresses, baby tees, a thousand different combinations, judged in an instant and sent flying onto the rapidly crowding bed where the former high school heroine sat, transfixed. It took a pair of hip-hugger jeans whizzing past, just missing her head as they went by, to shake her out of it enough to climb to her feet and speak.

"Um… Savannah?"

The human whirlwind that was Savannah Venable suddenly stilled, hand outstretched to reach a frilly little number in green.

"No need to be so formal, Sugah." She smiled wide and easy, looking back over her shoulder. "Call me Vannah, all my friends do. We are friends, aren't we?"

"Right, friends." Kim smiled back, but it almost fell when the southern blonde went back to the furious fashion search. "So, Vannah?"

"Yes?" She didn't even turn this time, starting on a row of midriff-baring tops.

"You do realize that's _my_ closet, don't you?" the confused and slightly put-off redhead asked as gently as she could.

"Well of course it's your closet, silly," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing. "I've had my outfit picked before my plane ever left Hartsfield International. That leaves us free to come up with the perfect thing for you to wear tonight."

"I appreciate the help, really, but I can pick out my own…" The last part of what her roommate had said finally clicked into her brain. "What do you mean 'tonight'?"

Savannah handed Kim what looked like a cross between a college party flier and a formal engraved invitation. She could practically smell the money as she stared at the elaborate filigreed border and elegant script.

"What's this?" Kim read the heading before she looked up and arched an eyebrow. "'An Evening with the Dips?'"

Savannah snatched the fine linen paper back as she laughed, a refined and almost musical sound.

"No, no, not the 'Dips.'" A few leftover titters were let out as she corrected her new friend. "The Delta Iota Rho fraternity."

"Fraternity?" asked Kim, uncertainly. "I thought Harvard didn't have a Greek system."

"Oh, officially we don't." Savannah explained. "Unofficially, there are a several chapters just off campus. All the best parts of a college experience, tradition, academic excellence, lasting friendships…"

"And parties." Kim finished, a smirk in her voice.

"Those, too," the blonde admitted with a grin of her own. "But the best of the best have always been Delta Iota Rho fraternity and Delta Epsilon Beta sorority."

"Let me guess, both had founding members that were Venables?"

"Oh my, yes!" Savannah gasped, looking genuinely shocked. "How did you know? Both started up a long while after GW Venable's time, but we've been Delta's and DEBs from the very first. My brother Dalton pledged eight years ago while he was here, and I'll be carrying on the tradition at the DEB house later this semester. This get-together tonight at the Delta house is another tradition, only more fun. Sort of a Welcome to Home to Harvard party. You just have to come. You will, won't you?"

Kim gave the paper another skeptical glance. Classes had only just begun, and each of her five professors seemed to be under the impression that theirs was the only course Kim was taking.

"I don't know… I mean the semester hasn't even started yet. Why have a party so early? If it's supposed to be a welcoming party, why not have it later so more of the incoming freshmen can find out about it."

"But that's the point, Sugah," Savannah said, laughing. "It's only for people in the know. Select freshmen get to meet all the right people all in one night, new students and upperclassmen. All the girls from my old boarding school will be there, I'm just dying for you to meet them. We'll all be best of friends by October, I'd bet my trust fund on it."

"Well…" The more she heard about it, the less confident Kim was about her ability to fit in. Not only did the elitist attitude rub her the wrong way, the pressure of saying the right thing would probably destroy any chance of having a good time.

After all, her training was in cheerleading, Kung Fu, crime fighting and international diplomacy, not old money etiquette. And, knowing her boyfriend, Ron would probably wind up feeling worse about not getting accepted here after spending all night listening to a bunch of Harvard snobs.

"Please, Kim." And suddenly, Kim noticed a slight trace of neediness in her roommate's voice. "It's just, you've been so nice and I thought, if you'd just meet the other girls, we'd all have friends here. We're all a long way from home. Big Daddy always told me, 'There are only two cures for a homesick heart, my deah. You either come back home, or make a home where you've landed.' I think we're both here to stay, Sugah. I want to make this dusty old Yankee school feel like home to me, and having a friend like you, someone I really can count on… well it couldn't hurt, hmm?"

Then, like on registration day, Kim felt like she could see another side of Savannah Venable peeking through the layers of high society glamour and old family traditions. It wasn't nearly enough of a look to tell her much about the young woman underneath, but the fact that there was something there was an encouragement in itself.

She thought about the words her roommate had quoted. _And how weird is it that I'm rooming with a girl who calls her father 'Big Daddy'?_ As bad as she'd felt watching her parents leaving the dormitory, Kim had a feeling the worst of her homesickness had yet to make an appearance. When it finally hit, it really would be nice to have a friend right there to help her through it. And it wouldn't be fair, or even feasible, to expect Ron to drop everything and rush to comfort her. The idea of a circle of friends at Fair Harvard was sounding better and better.

"Okay, Vannah. I'm up to do the party thing tonight."

"Fabulous! You won't regret it Kim, I promise." Vannah gushed excitedly, but her joyful expression turned puzzled as she saw the other girl walking towards the phone on her nightstand. "You have someone to call?"

"Well yeah, I need to call Ron," she explained, though her tone implied she shouldn't have had to. She lifted the phone from its cradle and started punching in the number.

"Your beau?" Savannah's own tone wasn't upset exactly, but it was slightly guarded.

"Uh-huh" Kim was thinking back to the impromptu phone call he'd made the night before, a less than dignified dreamy expression passing across her face as she did. "Oh, and you're going to have to tell me when and where. It takes him a little over two hours to get here, so if the party starts before that, I need to give him directions so he can meet us there."

Savannah's reaction was less than encouraging. _Okay… Why does she look like I just cancelled Christmas?_

"Kim, I'm sorry. I should've told you."

That didn't help.

"Should've told me what?" she asked, cautiously.

"The party, it's a brothers-only event. The girls are invited and we're allowed to bring friends, but we can't bring a date that isn't a member of the fraternity." Kim's face fell as she hung up the phone, leaving Savannah scrambling to find a solution to the problem that she cursed herself for not seeing in advance. "It's just one of their silly little boys' club rules, Sugah. One night without your sweetie can't hurt anything."

"This isn't about a night without my swee… my boyfriend. This is about my not wanting to be ogled by a bunch of drunken frat boys."

"Now, Kim," Savannah tried to put on her best 'sensible' voice, one she usually only broke out for Sunday brunch with the pastor and the board of deacons back home. "We are two proud 21st Century women. It wouldn't cause a scandal for us to seen in public without a gentleman escort, now would it? I said I wanted you to meet my friends, and that's all I wanted. The Delta's may be our hosts, but that doesn't mean we owe them anything more than the honor of our attendance. They'll have to settle for watching from a distance while we ladies get better acquainted."

"'We?'" Kim asked, slightly dubious that someone with her roommate's outgoing personality would pass up a chance to flirt with the supposed "best of the best" college guys.

"Yes, _we_." There was a slight sharpness to her response, making Kim realize that how her question might have been seen as an insult. "I'm not about to abandon my newest friend just so I can string along a few more prospective suitors. Besides, there is something to be said for playing hard to get."

That last part was accompanied by a playful smile, showing that no offense had been taken. Kim could feel her resolve weakening at the prospect of a girls' night out. It was something she'd missed out on growing up.

The cheer squad back at Middleton High had never really separated her from the demanding, slightly perfectionist captain she'd been in practice. Monique, as much as her friendship meant to her, was as much of a closet tomboy as she was with her older brother exposing her to GWA wrestling back when she was young and impressionable.

Of course, the thought of her best female friend's near obsession with guys named Pain King and Steel Toe reminded her why she was having so much trouble accepting her roommate's invitation. She found herself looking back at the small nightstand by her bed, staring not so much at the phone itself but who it represented.

"You could always call him," Savannah's words brought her out of her thoughts and she regarded the blonde. "Why not see what your beau has to say about it?"

"But if he can't…" As she trailed off, Kim's confusion quickly turned to irritation. "Wait a second; you think I need to ask his permission?"

"Now, I never said that, Sugah," she softly soothed. "All I said was that maybe it might be easier for you to decide if you got his opinion on things. He is the reason you're so torn about this, isn't he?"

Just as Kim was about to unleash another storm of righteous feminine fury, saying in no uncertain terms that she wasn't anyone's property, she stopped short and considered the idea. If she was really honest with herself, she had to admit that she was worried what Ron would think if she went to a party like this without saying anything to him. What if he called the dorms while she was gone? What if he tried her on her Kimmunicator? The simpler model Wade had made for him last year had full video phone capabilities. He'd see it was a party right away. What could she say, then?

That settled it, she couldn't go. But how was she going to break it to Savannah without ruining their tentative friendship? Then it hit her. She already had the answer, and her roommate had been the one to give it to her.

"Yeah," she answered, finally. "I guess you're right. It wouldn't hurt anything to get his opinion."

_Right, like he could be anything but tweaked at the idea of me alone at a frat party_, Kim thought as she walked over and picked up the phone. _But Vannah was the one that suggested I call him, so she can't get mad if Ron happens to "remind" me that we'd already made plans for tonight_.

It was perfect. She even started to look forward to going on their "forgotten" date. Even though she had no intention of screwing up a Harvard education by becoming a college party girl, that didn't mean she was okay staying in on a Friday night when her BF was just a phone call away.

_I just hope Ron catches on to the plan right away. I really have to watch what I say in front of her if I expect this to work._

WTOS

Two minutes later, she found herself staring at the phone in her had like it was some kind of filthy disease bearing creature. Recovering quickly, she put the phone back to her ear.

"What did you just say?" she asked, hoping that she'd heard him wrong.

"I said 'no,' Kim," came the answer from the other end. "No, nein, nyetzky, no way Josephina, N-O, no. Sorry KP but, as your boyfriend, I forbid it."

"You forbid-"

The redhead could feel the plastic of the phone cracking slightly in her tightening grip, but she couldn't even get her response all the way out before he cut her off.

"It's for your own good." Ron's voice was calm, but as hard and firm as she'd ever heard it. "You know what'd happen if you put yourself in that kind of situation if I wasn't watching you every second. We both know _exactly_ what you'd do."

"Ronald Stoppable, are you calling me a-"

"I don't have to call you anything, Kim." Her face went from pink to nearly crimson when he interrupted her again. "Your actions talk plenty loud. Or did you forget that exchange student from Italy your family hosted last year?"

"I…" A little of her bluster faded at the reminder. "Okay, big deal. One time."

"The free safety and cornerback from my old Mad Dogs team?" Those words in that calm tone made her flinch, taking a bit more of anger with it.

"I apologized to you for that, why do you have to keep bringing it-"

"The whole starting lineup for the high school varsity basketball squad?"

"That... I... I didn't mean for it to happen, Ron, you know I didn't," Kim felt the fight leaving her as her shoulders started to slump.

"I know," said Ron, gently but still firmly. "Just like I know you didn't mean for it to happen with the entire Middleton Volunteer Fire Department, either. Promise me, KP."

"Okay, okay," she said, sounding defeated and more than a little ashamed. "I promi-"

"Do it right," her boyfriend broke in, his tone warning. "I, Kimberly Anne Possible…"

"I, Kimberly Anne Possible…" she repeated with a sigh.

"Do solemnly swear…"

"Do solemnly swear…" she parroted him listlessly, letting herself fall back on her bed.

"That I will use neither oven, nor stovetop, nor any major kitchen appliance…"

"That I will use neither oven, nor stovetop, nor any major kitchen appliance…"

"Unless I am under the watchful eyes of my bon-diggety boyfriend, Ron."

"Unless I am under the watchful eyes of… wait." Kim sat up suddenly, life rushing back into her features. "Are you saying…?"

"Finish the promise, Kim." The warmth in his voice was back, full force.

"Unless I am under the watchful eyes of my bon-diggety boyfriend, Ron," she finished excitedly. "So you mean it? You're going to try and teach me again."

"Kimila, you can do anything, remember? Including learn to cook. You just need a little supervision so nobody gets hurt."

Kim blushed again as she was once more reminded of her past crimes against cuisine.

Rosalia had been staying with the Possibles for about a week when she had decided to make the girl from Napoli an authentic Italian dinner to make her feel more at home. That night, she'd learned some useful phrases in Italian, like "_Portarmi all'ospedale_" which means "Take me to the hospital" and "_Il mio stomaco brucia con i fuochi dall'Inferno_" or "My stomach burns with the fires from Hell."

The two football players had been part of a cheerleading tradition, every girl on the squad would make dinner for two players assigned at random the night before the big game against Lowerton. With both players getting their stomachs pumped, Coach Barkin had made Ron play offence _and_ defense the entire night. He'd been so tired the next day; he'd actually destroyed one of Drakken's doomsday machines by nodding off and hitting the self-destruct button with his forehead.

The basketball team had been another cheerleading fiasco. The team mom had, ironically, gone on maternity leave so they'd been in charge of packing sack lunches for the boys to take to their away game. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if she hadn't packed one for the bus driver, too.

The worst, of course, had to be the infamous Middleton Volunteer Fire Department's Annual Pancake Breakfast, spring of '05. For the next week following, Team Possible had found themselves answering every fire-related emergency as the members of the fire department couldn't bring themselves to be more than twelve feet from a bathroom for any length of time.

"So," her boyfriend and future cooking instructor said, ending her reminiscing. "Was their anything else you wanted to talk about, besides the kitchenette in your dorm?"

"Actually, there was one thing…" Kim had to choose her words very carefully if she was going to convince the clearly eavesdropping Savannah that she wasn't trying to get out of going to the party. "You know my new roommate, right?"

"Miss Georgia Peach? Yeah, I remember. Is she giving you any trouble?" he asked, concerned. "Are we looking at Bonnie II: Revenge of Queen B?"

"No, it's nothing like that," she said, quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "She invited me to a party tonight, so I can meet some of her girl friends."

"Aw, you see, Kim? You were all worried over nothing." Kim was taken aback by how happy for her he sounded. "Of course she'd want to brag about her badical new roomie."

"Right, well…" She'd been thrown by his instantaneous encouragement but she went on, the bomb she was about to drop guaranteed to change his tune. "It's at a local fraternity house. The girls aren't allowed to bring dates that aren't members, so you wouldn't be able to come."

"So it'll just be ladies' night, then? That sounds perfect!"

"Yeah I know, it… huh?" Her jaw had to be down around her ankles as she processed what she'd heard, his voice no less cheerful than before. "You think it's a good idea?"

"Sure!" he answered enthusiastically. "You know how I get sometimes. If they're anything like most of the trust fund babies we've met, they'll tear me apart for every little thing. Better they get to know you first. Then, when you're all friends, introduce them to me one at a time. Let's face it; some people can only handle the Ron Man in small doses."

"But, but…" This was not going at all to plan, and she knew Savannah could tell something was up. "Ron, this is a frat party, with _frat guys_. What do you think is going to happen if they see me there without you as my date? Do you honestly trust them to be perfect gentlemen?"

"Uh, no…" her boyfriend answered, confused. "Why would I have to trust them? I trust you."

Silence.

"Ron… You know those times when you say something that makes me realize that you're the only guy for me?"

"Yeah. Oh! Is now one of those times?"

"Uh-huh" she replied, letting herself lie back on her bed again as she idly played with a strand of her long red hair.

"Booyah!" came his loud response. "Wait, what did I say?"

Shaking her head, she laughed for the umpteenth time at her best friend's cluelessness.

"Nope, it wouldn't be fair if I told you. Then you could say things like that all time and I'd be totally under your power."

"Awww, that tanks! I never get to have anything totally under my power." Kim laughed again as she heard him sulk. "Well, have fun at your party, KP. Oh, and see if you remember any of the girls from your cheer tryouts. It's never too early to start campaigning for that captain spot. Even if they didn't make it, if they're on the squad next year, you want them in your camp."

"Thanks Ron, I'll remember that." She was still basking in the glow the words he'd said so effortlessly. "I love you."

"Love you too, Kim. Now, go on and wow 'em!"

With a pleased sigh, she put the phone back in its cradle then closed her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and soaked in the warm feelings. _He trusts me. I'd be surrounded by college guys and he believes enough in us that he's telling me to have a good time._

A delicate cough sounded in the room and Kim opened her eyes to see a rather smug southerner staring back at her. With a grin of her own, the teen crime fighter shifted so that she was facing her roommate completely, her head propped on one arm.

"So, about my outfit," she said, coyly. "I'm thinking something that says 'I know you can't take your eyes off me… but you don't have a snowball's chance in a volcano.'"

WTOS

Ron hung up the phone, thrilled at his best friend and partner getting along so well with her new roommate. It was inspiring, really. In fact, he found himself inspired head over and see what was happening with his. Mac had been sort of quiet lately. Actually, he'd been quiet for awhile.

_Okay, he's quiet unless I force him to talk. That doesn't make him a bad guy. One of my closest guy friends spent about a decade afraid to leave his room. I can take a little shyness._

Walking around his bed to the door that led into the common living room, Ron glanced briefly at the small table by the bedside. Specifically, he looked at the doll-sized furniture that had been unused since earlier that afternoon when Rufus had told him he was going out. That's right, **told**. Ronald Stoppable was a man of many talents, one of which being a rather gifted linguist. English, Spanish, Japanese, and even some of the more esoteric languages of man came fairly easy to him. Giant cockroach and mutant wiener dog came to him almost instinctively. But he would always be proudest of his near fluent grasp of what he called Rufussian, the language of the naked mole rat.

Contrary to popular belief, Ron and Rufus didn't always understand each other. Rufus was a bit of a quicker study, picking up simple human phrases almost immediately. Ron, on the other hand, ended up with a much more complete grasp of his buddy's mother tongue. There are only so many squeaks, yips, grunts and growls a mole rat can produce but, from those simple base sounds, a complex matrix of base words, prefixes, suffixes, modifiers, and radicals is formed.

Of course, language is hardly an exact science, and even Ron occasionally found himself lost in the translation. For example, when Rufus had said why he was going out, he'd used the root grunt for "flower" with a "daylight" modifier squeak, then followed it with chitter meaning "mouse" but used the feminine radical afterwards instead of the typical masculine. Ron couldn't make heads or tails of it, but had wished his little buddy a good time, regardless.

He knocked when he got to his roommate's doorway, despite the door already being open. By the dim red light of the tiny bedside lamp, the only illumination Mac would let into his room, Ron saw the young man sitting on the edge of his bed, the one closest to the lamp; look up from the paper in his hand to regard him for a moment, before letting his eyes fall back to it. He could see that he was still wearing that antique-looking robe, something you'd think a Victorian English gentleman might wear to sit in his study smoking a pipe.

"Hey, Mac," said Ron, not offended by the lack of attention. "How's tricks?"

"I am unsure as to your meaning, Ron," the taller boy said, not looking up. "Do you wish to know if I am being deceptive, or if I intend to perform feats of skill? There is a usage from the late 1800s where 'trick' came to mean baggage or other belongings. Or are you inquiring as to whether I have been successful in attempts to prostitute myself?"

"Okay…" The freckled blond fought the temptation to back away slowly. "Let's try again. Hey Mac. How are you?"

"Ah, an informal greeting with an implied question as to my well-being." While he still hadn't looked up again, the other young Miski man had allowed himself a small smile. "I am… somewhat perplexed by this letter from Corinne."

"Corinne?" Ron was more than a little surprised to have gotten not only a straight answer but what sounded like actual personal information from his reclusive roommate. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yes, she is this subj… she is _my_ girlfriend."

"Cool! And she wrote you this soon? She must really miss you," said Ron, missing the slip in his excitement. "Wait a sec, you said 'perplexed,' which I know is a school word for confused." _Thank you, word-a-day desk calendar. _"There's something about the letter that's got you mixed up? Well, maybe I can help. You mind reading it out loud?"

"Very well." Mac took a breath and began to read in his usual soft monotone. "'Dear Ian…'"

"Whoa, time out!" Ron cut the reading short; bring his hands up into a "T" shape. "Your name is Ian?"

"That is correct. Ian MacKarish." Satisfied that his explanation was acceptable, he took another breath and started again. "'Dear Ian…"

"Would you be mad if I still called you Mac?" asked Ron, hopefully. "I've never known a Mac."

"I would not mind," answered Ian, or Mac, blithely. He waited a full five seconds, this time, before taking a breath and beginning once more. "'Dear Ian… It's over. This is the hardest letter-"

"WHAT?" the excitable sidekick dashed across the room, snatching the letter out of Mac's hand. "Let me see that.

"Dear Ian,

"It's over. This is the hardest letter I will ever have to write. I know I said we could make a long-distance relationship work, but I just can't take the pressure anymore. It wouldn't be fair to either of us to pretend any longer. College is supposed to be some of the best years of our lives, and I can't expect you not to experience them to the fullest, just like you wouldn't expect me not to. I've met so many nice and interesting people here in Austin. One person in particular has been especially great. His name is Danny, and I know you two would get along so great. I'm sorry if all this seems sudden, but I have to be true to my own heart. We were friends for so many years before we got together, so I know you'll understand. Just like I know that our friendship is too strong for something like this to ruin it. Don't worry; we'll still see each other when I come back to Boston for winter break. Not spring break, though. Danny's uncle has a time share in Cancun. I promise everything is going to be exactly the same between us except for the boyfriend/girlfriend thing.

"All my love,

"Corinne

"P.S. I feel like this will make our friendship so much stronger."

As Ron read the last line out loud, he felt the arm holding the letter go slack and the letter itself slowly glided down to the floor. He was stunned, completely shocked into silence.

For all of four seconds.

"DUDE!!" Turning around, quick as lightning, Ron reached out and grabbed Mac by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. "That is the most sick and wrong thing I've ever seen in my LIFE!"

"So, you were able to discern what it was that I did incorrectly?" the limp-haired boy asked, his voice a notch more emotional than usual. "I have been analyzing her correspondence since I received it this morning, but I was unable to determine my error."

"What you did incorrectly?" Ron straightened up, repeating his friend's words in disbelief. "Mac, buddy, you didn't do anything wrong, trust me."

"Then the error was… Corinne's?"

"You're darn right the error was Corinne's!" he shouted in answer, pointing an accusing finger at the letter on the floor. "She dumped you just so she could go nuts at some party school! That… that… grrrrRRARGH!"

"Ron, you seem greatly upset by this development." Mac's quiet observation made him pause for a moment, just now noticing that he'd started pacing back and forth in the darkened room without even realizing it. "Is it common to express such displeasure at the abrupt end of another's courtship?"

"Uh… well," Ron struggled for an answer, not entirely sure himself why the letter had affected him so much.

No, that wasn't true. He would never admit it out loud, but he knew exactly what it was about Mac's situation with his high school sweetheart that was getting to him.

_That could've been me and Kim if I'd had to stay back in Colorado._ He shook his head almost violently to clear the thought away. _No, no way. KP would never do that to me. Not a chance. Still… if I hadn't made it up here with her, it wouldn't have made things any easier on us, that's for sure._

"I mean, it's just the injustice of it all, y'know?" he recovered, lamely. "Gets me right here. But what about you, man? How are you holding up?"

"This is… not how I had planned it to be." Mac sounded even more listless than before, if that were possible. "There is much I still need to learn…"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, then promptly shut it again. A little voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Kim's reminded him to think before he said something that was likely to get him into trouble.

_Hmmm… On the one hand, I was able to help Felix and Zita get together after graduation. On the other hand, trying to get Wade together with Monique was a complete disaster. On the other hand… Wait, only monkeys have more than two hands! No more hands! _

_What was I thinking about again?_

_Oh yeah, should I or should I not try to be Ron the matchmaker for my new pal Mac? Well, I guess if I learn from what I did wrong with Wade, it'll be okay. So, what did I learn from that? Um… Oh! Under no circumstances am I to dress him up as former U.S. president Abraham Lincoln. _

_Even if it is hilarious._

With that settled, Ron put on a great big grin and sat down on the bed next to his roommate, slinging and arm over his shoulders.

"Mac, my man," he said. "The Ron man is going to see to it that you get back up on that horse."

"'Get back on the horse that bucked you,' an idiom referring to alcohol consumed as a means of curing a hangover, also called the 'hair of the dog that bit you,'" Mac recited, to Ron's bewilderment. "But I have not experienced symptoms of excessive alcoholic consumption. Unless you refer to an actual horse. You are aware that Corinne is a human female, are you not? An equine mammal would have been incapable of written correspondence."

"Uh-huh. I have no idea what you just said," Ron admitted. "But, that's beside the point. If you want to learn about the great mystery that is woman, you've come to the right guy."

"You are knowledgeable in the practices of courtship?" The touch of hopefulness in Mac's voice was all it took to convince Ron that this was a good idea.

"Hey, I'm dating Kim Possible," he answered simply. "I gotta be doing something right."

WTOS

Despite her best efforts, Kim couldn't keep herself from fidgeting as she stood on the sidewalk in front of the large, three story house where the party was being held. She looked back, watching as Savannah slipped a few bills out of her designer purse and into the waiting hand of the taxi driver. Not bothering to do anything as lowbrow as wait for the man to make change, she turned walked to stand right beside her redheaded roommate.

"So, what do you think?" Savannah gestured to the Victorian structure with a painstakingly manicured hand.

The building itself was painted a gleaming white. There were more than a dozen windows facing out to the street, all trimmed with a charcoal grey to match the sloping roof. Directly above the huge double doors that served as the main entrance were the Greek letters **Δ I P**, with the words "Delta Iota Rho" just underneath them.

"It looks… nice," she said, haltingly. "I haven't really seen too many places like this. Evil villain's lairs, those are more my area of expertise. I mean, if you wanted to know where I thought the most likely place they'd hide a death ray… What am I doing here? This is so not my sitch."

"Kim, don't be ridiculous." Savannah put a reassuring hand on Kim's back, which had the added benefit of keeping her from turning around and bolting. "We've come all this way and I will not let that dress I picked out for you go to waste."

The dress in question was a dark blue spaghetti strap number that came down to a few inches above the knee. She'd bought it as a replacement for a similar dress that had been partially sucked into a swirling vortex of nothingness on her first, and last, real date with Josh Mankey and had worn it on several of her Saturday night dates with Ron.

A pair of green topaz earrings Ron had brought back from his last solo trip to Japan and the golden necklace with its black stone and intricate gilded branch design accented the dress perfectly. She hadn't bothered to put up her hair, but that might have been a subconscious desire to be recognized as the world famous Kim Possible. Being known as someone who regularly saved the world is great for when you worry about feeling inferior.

The blonde next to her was looking equally stunning in her white backless top that seemed to float rather than hang down from around her neck and a multi-tiered skirt in pale blue. Unlike Kim, she'd decided to wear heels, giving the dainty southern bell a good two inches on her new friend.

"I don't think I can do this," Kim half pleaded, looking at her with partial puppy dog pout.

"Oh would you listen to yourself, Sugah?" The exasperated southerner put a bit of pressure behind the hand on Kim's back and they both started up the walkway. "Didn't you have that motto, 'I can do everything'?"

"Anything," she corrected automatically.

"Well, this is 'anything.'" Savannah broke contact as they reached the heavy oak doors, then reached up and played three sharp taps with the wrought iron knocker. "So, let's do it."

The door in front of them swung open almost immediately, giving Kim her first look at a college party for the young and absurdly wealthy. Relief flooded in immediately when she saw what the other female guests were wearing, all of them falling into that most uncertain of fashion categories: dressy casual. Clearly she'd been right to trust her roommate's judgment; her outfit was just classy enough without drawing too much attention.

Turning her attention to the brothers of Delta Iota Rho themselves, the first thing she noted was that they all seemed to be wearing the same dark grey blazers, each bearing a patch with their fraternity's letters sewn over the spot where their hearts would be.

Their individuality, from what she could see, was based on what was worn under the jackets. Some were formal in pressed white shirts and ties, others in simple button downs or sweaters, a few wore tee-shirts and left their blazers unbuttoned to further express their nonconformity and… yes, that guy by the snack table had elected to go the body paint route.

They took their first steps inside, revealing even more Ivy League revelers in the vast function hall beyond. Kim was sure that, if they'd had on red jumpsuits and carried plasma lasers, she'd have no trouble charging right in. As it was, she was fighting the urge to turn and run before too many of them spotted her. Savannah sensed it and nudged a little closer into her side, putting a hand on Kim's elbow to gently lead her inside.

Heads turned. There were double takes, even some triple takes, as the two beauties promenaded through the foyer. The incoming freshmen had been to the entry ceremony, including the paparazzi feeding frenzy it'd become afterwards, and anyone else would have to have seen the papers, magazines, TV news broadcasts, or any of the other sources of gossip screaming that the Kim Possible had come to Harvard. That said, it was obvious that the only person who wasn't shocked at the sight of the famous redhead was the blonde shepherding her around the crowded room.

Ignoring the murmurs of the gawking masses, and praying that her new friend could do the same, Savannah scanned the well-appointed entry hall for any familiar face. No luck there, though she did try to file away some of the more handsome Delta faces for the not-too-distant future.

For a minute she was close to panicking, convinced that three quarters of an hour hadn't been fashionable late enough, when she spied their salvation a few feet away from the large but currently unused fireplace. All four of them there, happily catching up but anticipation clearly in their body language, waiting for one more reunion and one very important introduction.

"Young ladies. Young ladies!" Savannah spoke up, using a stern warbling voice that caused four sets of eyes to dart instantly to their location. "Lest we forget… Want of sense is not so unpardonable…"

"As want of manners!" all five girls finished as one, leaving one green-eyed freshmen girl feeling slightly out of the loop.

What followed could best be described as controlled chaos. Savannah and her friends closed the gap with the speed of a wave breaking on the shore, but not one of them lost poise for even a second. There was none of the squealing she normally associated with long lost girl friends, only scattered cheek kisses and impossibly dainty hugs. As if by some unspoken signal, they all broke off and formed a line facing her.

Kim couldn't stop her mind from comparing them to a rather glamorous firing squad.

"Kim, allow me to introduce my four co-founders of the Harvard-Bound Honeys of Ms. Lavater's Academy for Girls," the blonde said with a smile and a grand sweep of her arm. "From my immediate left…"

Savannah gestured to the raven haired girl beside her who took a step forward. She was pale, not sickly looking at all, but compared to the others she clearly didn't care about her tan. Even Kim herself, with her almost pathological fear of freckling inspiring her apply sunscreen daily, had a darker complexion. Blue eyes seemed to be appraising her where she stood, and somewhat thin but well-formed lips suggested that the other girl was moderately impressed with what she saw. Her nose extended a bit farther than the others' but it didn't detract from her pretty face, which was partially hidden by the bangs of her otherwise short, borderline boyish, haircut.

"Maxine Abel-Encohm," she said with a noticeable Long Island accent, and extended her hand. "Otherwise known as Max, the Honeys' resident Jewish-American Princess. I'm here to study Tax Law at HLS."

Max stepped back, prompting the next to go ahead. Aside from the dark hair, the rest of her was in stark contrast with the New York native she'd just met. Her skin was a rich brown, but her features suggested Indian rather than African ancestry. A smile showed both warmth and a set of perfectly white teeth, and her long, lustrous hair framed her face well.

"Malati Pratigya, but you can call me Mala," she said, her accent sounding primarily British with a hint of her native India, also offered her hand in greeting. "I plan to study Health Care Law so I can work with my mother. She's a hospital administrator in Maine."

"Oh?" Kim saw some potential common ground. "My mom works in a hospital back home."

"Of course, Dr. Ann Possible. Her last paper for the AMA Journal was required reading for mother's neurology staff."

At a loss for the words to continue, Kim just smiled and let Mala step back. Her mom was definitely getting a phone call over the weekend. What kind of daughter was she, not even knowing that her brain surgeon mother had had work published let alone congratulated her on it?

Another of the "Honeys" stepped up, as beautiful as the other four but in a different, more classic way. Her figure was fuller than Kim's or any of the other five, but especially in those places that left her feeling slightly self-conscious. Sporting strawberry blonde locks in an intricate up 'do that had a definite curl to it in the places where it hung loose, this freshmen with her half-lidded grey eyes had curves that would've had Shego green…er with envy.

And, judging from the bronzed skin showing at the edges of her low-rider jeans and lower cut blouse, she had that elusive all-over tan. _How very… European_. A few missions along the Mediterranean had somewhat forcibly introduced her to the concept of the "nude beach," but she'd never had the courage herself, nor had she the willingness to let Ron go native. Rufus, on the other hand, had been declared unofficial mascot of three different beaches.

"Laurette Closieur, but zee ozzers all call me 'Lor,' so you may az well, Cherie," even a few syllables of her rich but heavily accented intro confirmed to Kim that Lor was from across the pond, specifically France. "I wish to specialize in zee Real Estate Law. Perhaps claim back some of zee territory Bonaparte sold away to your Thomas Jefferson, non?"

Off the top of her head, Kim could think of a high school somewhere in Louisiana that the United States would probably be better off without. _Let it go, Kim_. _It's not Delacroix's fault that their cheer captain was a brush-stealing, boyfriend flirting little…_

Shaking loose old bitterness she turned to the next girl in line, the last besides Savannah herself. In keeping with the internationally diverse nature of the group, she had distinctly Asian features. Kim felt her hackles rising involuntarily before ruthlessly stamping any negative thoughts down. Whoever she was, this was not Yori from Yamanouchi, or even that Amika girl Ron had practically been gushing over not long ago.

Kimberly Ann Possible could be accused of a lot of things, but she'd been raised better than to be prejudiced against a person because of their gender or ethnicity. Even if she happened to wear her hair in a short style eerily similar to the ninja girl who'd once crushed so obviously on her best friend… or was looking at her with a more than slightly superior smirk.

"Bai Huiliang," she said, without a hint of accent to speak of. "But only my grandparents call me Huiliang. It's Halle. I'll be going into Criminal Law."

"D.A.'s office?" asked Kim. She'd worked with several prosecuting attorneys in the past, giving testimony that helped put the bad guys in jail_. Didn't do much to keep them from breaking out, unfortunately. _

"Heh, you wish." Halle's hand rested on her hip in a manner that gave Kim several unpleasant Rockwaller-related flashbacks. "Somebody has to stand up for the rights of the accused. Do you have any idea how many of the people you helped put in prison were denied due process?"

Kim opened her mouth, first in shock, then in preparation to defend herself, when Savannah stepped in and lifted a restraining hand in front of Halle.

"Down girl," she warned, playfully, before turning back to Kim. "Halle's nobody's shrinking violet, but at least she's on our side. Now, all of you know me, so that only leaves me the pleasure of introducing the hero to millions, all around super-woman, my roommate, Kim Possible, taking her first strides into fair Harvard with a focus on International Law."

"International Law?" Max cocked her head to one side curiously. "So, what, you want to get a job at the UN?"

"The Peace Corps?" guessed Mala.

"Interpol?" Lor threw in her guess as well.

"One of those might be nice…" Kim began, hesitating slightly at the topic. "But I was also considering this other organization."

"Really? Which one?" Halle looked expectantly as she waited for her answer.

"Oh, not very well known. I doubt you've heard of it." The look she got from the future defense attorney let her know this wasn't the last time she'd be asked about it.

After the introductions came the necessary oohs and ahhs over what everyone was wearing, something that had Kim silently thanking Monique for their long hours discussing fashion together as she more than held her own, even among the boarding school set. The topics moved on to their impressions of the campus, the surrounding area, the upcoming semester and, best of all, not only was the conversation stimulating her intellectually, but it still managed to strike her as being so wonderfully, undeniably… girly. This was what she'd come hoping for. Not long into the evening, Kim had to admit to herself that this had been a fantastic idea.

WTOS

Five minutes out the door, Ron had to admit to himself that this might not have been the best of ideas. He was in the sprawling parking lot that served all the dorms on this part of the campus. Following about a dozen feet behind him was the reason he was starting to doubt the chances that good would come of this.

"I still wish you would have allowed me to wear my coat, Ron," the lanky freshman trailing him complained for the umpteenth time.

"You mean the floor-length, cover your entire body, 'Hey everybody, I'm a flasher' trenchcoat?" Ron asked, tiredly. "Rule Number Two of the Ron Stoppable Guide to Gettin' in Good with the Ladies: When you're on the prowl, dress to impress."

"But, didn't you say that the premier rule of the Ron Stoppable Guide to Getting' in Good with the Ladies was 'Always be yourself'?" MacKarish looked genuinely confused at the apparent contradiction.

"Well, yeah but… hey, just look at me." Ron gestured downward, indicating the white dinner jacket he typically wore for the swankier dates with Kim over his traditional mock turtleneck in black. He'd also broken out the dress pants from the tuxedo given to him by Canadian Secret Agent Joe. "Not my normal look, but I make it my own. Be yourself, but be the best self you can be. Right now, we want to move you _away_ from the 'reject from a bad 40's detective movie' self so some lucky girl can get to know you better. Besides, what do you need a coat like that for? It's still practically summer, you can get away with that light jacket."

"It is just…" Mac looked down, staring down at the dark brown slacks that covered his long legs, with his feet set unusually far apart from each other, even while walking. "These appendages are so… unsightly."

"C'mon, they're not that bad," Ron reassured him, gently. "Sure they're a little skinny, but it happens to the best of us. Maybe if you didn't walk so…"

He hadn't finished his thought before a memory came to him of asking Mac about his wide stance, both for standing and walking. His roommate had explained, and demonstrated, that having his feet a normal distance apart was a recipe for disaster, making the other college boy even clumsier than Ron had been at his worst.

"… Never mind."

They walked in silence a little while longer, Ron no longer worrying _where_ he should take his new friend to meet women, so much as why he thought he could do this in the first place. He was about to turn around and call the whole thing off when he spotted a familiar form up ahead.

"Hey Steve!" he shouted, and jogged over to where his new teammate was standing with a bunch of the other guys who'd recently made the team. "You guys look like you're ready to paint the town in red and brown."

The reference to the Miskatonic school colors brought a few chuckles and some hearty affirmatives from the gathered ballplayers. Steve extended a hand and exchanged a quick round of dap, mercifully brief and fairly uncomplicated, with his new Caucasian friend. He was looking fairly sharp in his open black and white warm-up jacket over a white tank top and a loose pair of black jeans. To top it all off, he was wearing a crisp white fedora with a black band over a black do-rag.

"Ron, man, I don't know how you found us, but I guess we're just lucky you showed anyway," he said, draping an arm around the shorter guy's shoulders. "We tried to call you, tell you we were heading out tonight, but all we got was some house in Colorado."

"Colorado? Heh… really? Somebody must've put the number down wrong, I guess."

Of course, Ron knew that he had obviously put his home phone number on the team contact list instead of his cell number. No point in saying it now, though, none at all.

"So you up for it, Stoppable?" asked a guy Ron vaguely remembered trying out for tight end. "There's this big party in town, and we're all going."

"A party?" Ron's interest was piqued; this could be exactly what he was looking for. "What kind of party?"

"All I know is that it's got the three essential B's," explained Steve with a big grin. "A band, booze, and booty."

Ron's teen hero alarm was blaring in his head when he heard the second "B" and with good reason. He'd asked around, and none of his teammates present met the legal drinking age requirement of 21 for the state of Massachusetts. Still, he did his best to silence that still small voice. After all, these guys considered him to be cool. That was something he found he had a hard time throwing away, for all his claims of non-conformity in high school. Besides, no one said he had to drink, and he could do some good by keeping his fellow footballers from driving drunk.

"I'm there," he said, proud of himself for sounding more confident than he felt. "Only… do you mind if I bring a friend along?"

"That depends," answered a fairly hefty member of the lineman contingent. "Is it that babe Marie from the tryouts? That girl serves her Jambalaya **hot**, I guar-ahn-tee!"

"Sorry, no dice," he said, amid the others' laughter and mock disappointed sighs. "Actually, it's…"

"Ron, is this where I am to meet my new girlfriend?" came a voice from behind them, in an overly loud tone that made Ron wince. "These people all appear to be male. Were you aware of that?"

The Miski Freshmen of the gridiron regarded the intruder, with his flat, dull hair and his long, skinny legs that he kept bowlegged, making him look like he'd just finished riding the bull in a rodeo. He also had a sort of shifty look about him, constantly turning his head to check the space behind him.

"Guys…" Ron gestured unenthusiastically towards the strange newcomer. "Meet my roommate, Mac. Mac, these are the guys. They just invited me to go with them to a party in town."

"Is this party where I am to observe the females?" he asked, hopefully.

"Hold that thought," Steve said, quickly, before pulling Ron off to the side. "I don't know about this guy, man. He's got gamekiller written all over himself, Ron. Now, I know you got your own world-saving babe waiting for you, but the rest of us were hoping to get some tonight."

"Steve, chillax, alright? I know he's a little… different. Look, his girl dumped him in a letter. A LETTER!" Ron saw very little sympathy in his friend's face. "Okay, how about this? He'll be my responsibility, see? I make sure he doesn't do anything weird enough around you guys that it chases the girlies away, fare enough?"

"I still don't know…" Steve took one more look over his shoulder at Mac, who now appeared to be scribbling something in a small notepad he'd insisted on bringing. "Don't you think this guy's a little too much of a charity case?"

"Hey, you know what they say." Ron grinned as he led them back to the group. "Charity begins at home."

WTOS

At the same time, less than a mile away, two sets of four paws scurried along as fast as rodently possible. Up ivy covered walls, over rooftops, through the tall grass, the little brown field mouse navigated with practiced ease, forcing her travelling companion to pay close attention to her lithe, swishy tail or risk lagging behind. Of course, Rufus admitted to himself privately that he was beginning to understand why his human had started insisting that Kim lead the way through those ventilation ducts. Even if the trip is rough, the view can more than make up for it.

He wasn't sure what it was about Daisy that had made him agree to this night out. Heck, he wasn't sure about much at all when it came to his new friend. After the incident in the walls, he'd tried to tell her that no thanks were necessary, that it was all in a day's work for a member of Team Possible, but she'd insisted. Did that mean that she was interested? Was he? Hadn't he totally sworn off inter-species dating after that fiasco with the hairless cat? These were questions without answers, but for now he'd follow her and see where the evening took them.

Another five minutes saw the evening taking them to what had to be the most upscale community in Essex County. Manicured lawns the size of football fields, three-story mansions that positively reeked of historic significance, not to mention self-importance, and garages that were practically classic car museums were sprawled out before them. Mostly, Rufus was thinking about motion sensors, guard dogs, and groundskeepers who probably wouldn't be all that charitable to animals that had the potential to lower property values. Still, they went on.

He followed her all the way to one of the lesser maintained estates, where the owners were either gone or too cheap to hire a caretaker. Racing across the overgrown lawn, Daisy immediately darted into the shrubbery that ran along the side of the side of the house, making sure to go in a few feet to the left of a set of warped cellar doors. Rufus went in right after her and, once he'd gotten past the initial foliage, was shocked at what he saw.

Animals, wild and domesticated alike, were lined up in front of a hole in the cellar wall. There were two gruff looking badgers flanking either side of the breach, looking every bit the part of a pair of bouncers at an exclusive club. Rufus watched as they seemed to be doing just that, checking the other critters over before deciding whether or not they'd be allowed in. A pair of jills got in quick, one of the female ferrets flirting shamelessly with the doorbeasts as her less daring friend blushed hard enough that it showed through her fur. A mink discretely slipped over a pair of juicy grubs under the guise of shaking paws, gaining admittance for himself and his two dates. A chipmunk was stopped, searched, and found to be smuggling a small plastic baggie in his left cheek. Clearly, he'd been hoping to expand his catnip market. Finally, they were at the front of the line, having watched a scruffy looking Chihuahua be turned away, muttering as he left that he didn't need no stinking badgers to tell him when he wasn't wanted.

They looked Rufus up and down, the unspoken question fairly obvious. He stifled a growl before calmly explaining that he came by his hairlessness naturally, not from disease and definitely not because he was part of any supremacist group. Things might've gotten out of hand if Daisy hadn't picked that moment to pop out from behind her slightly taller date. The badgers recognized her instantly and stepped aside, smiling. They did shoot Rufus a warning look when Daisy took his paw to lead him inside, letting him know they'd be keeping an eye on him.

As he stepped through the hole in the paneling, he couldn't help but blink his beady black eyes at what he was seeing. It was a wine cellar. Bottles, casks, even barrels covered the walls from floor to ceiling and covered the floor from wall to wall. One such barrel had apparently fallen from its stack, the aged wood breaking on impact and spilling about half of its contents. The other half, it seemed, had stayed in the broken barrel that looked, to Rufus, to be the right size for an above-ground swimming pool. Next to the barrel was a moderately well-groomed raccoon sitting on his haunches next to a pile of acorns. Before he could ask Daisy about them, their purpose became clear as he watched the impromptu "bartender" pull the top off of one of the acorns before reaching in and dipping out an acorn cap-sized portion of the wine before handing it to a waiting squirrel.

With another yank, she practically dragged him across the dusty floor as she began excitedly making introductions. There where mice, moles, voles, rabbits, rats, cats, jays, crows, owls, lizards, toy poodles, miniature pinschers, hedgehogs, chinchillas, and just about every other type of animal in the area that could have fit through the improvised entrance. Predator and prey, side by side in their pursuit of a good time, a tenuous truce made in the name of fine wine and general debauchery.

"Not good," muttered Rufus, slipping into English so as not to offend his date. Daisy was obviously well on her way to having a great time, so he'd keep his worries to himself. For now.

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

The Miskatonic of this story is the creation of HP Lovecraft.

Ron's benefactor is the work of Robert E. Howard.

The chapter above is the work of Miskatonic's Dean of Cat Herding, Brother Bludgeon.


	11. At the Mixer of Madness, Part 2

At the Mixer of Madness pt. 2

WTOS

"Fifteen points."

"What!?" came the incredulous response. "How the hell do you figure that? Fifty!"

The elder Delta shook his head slowly. He wasn't sure how it had come to be this way, how this duty had fallen to him. Brent knew he wasn't the best looking brother at Delta Iota Rho, his nose was bigger than he would've liked and his skin suffered from a pasty paleness that threatened to burn if he even glanced at a tanning bed for too long. Still, in this matter, his word was law, and that was just the way he liked it.

Members of a fraternity like ΔIP have certain expectations placed upon them. Some were born through decades of tradition. Most, unfortunately, were stereotypes created by bad frat house movies. There was the binge drinking, the overstated rivalries between houses, even the brutal humiliation, or "hazing", of incoming new members was to be expected.

Of course, none of these clichés were observed with the same zeal and reverence as the truly favorite pastime of any Dip… the conquest of gorgeous young women.

And, like with so many things enjoyed by young men, elements of friendly competition were inevitable. There were disputes, of course. The question became quantity versus quality. How can one measure what is fundamentally an act of love between a man and a woman? Who can quantify what has long been considered a sacred act of union?

Oh, they found a way. They're students at Harvard, for crying out loud.

Brent, better known among the brotherhood by his nickname "Data", was the current keeper of their system. A prospective female paramour was observed, judged, and assigned a Pleasure Of Ogling Number, more commonly known as her P.O.O.N. rating. The system itself worked on a number of factors, something that Brent didn't' expect the younger brothers to understand right away. That's why he was there.

"She was originally a 95," he explained, pointing to the brunette that was the object of their discussion. "Problem is that the rating drops with every confirmed success. It's called the law of diminishing returns."

The first year Delta beside him took another long look at the girl he'd been talking to earlier.

"Exactly how much diminishing are we talking about?" he asked.

"Five points per," said Brent, sporting a sardonic grin. "You do the math."

"At least it's a _guaranteed_ fifteen," a smooth, mocking voice spoke up beside them. "I bet even you could close the deal with her, _little_ brother."

The younger man frowned up at the new arrival, who was indeed his "big brother." The Big Bro/Li'l Bro system was a mentorship program popular in fraternities all over the country, as was its Big Sis/Li'l Sis sorority counterpart. An older member would take on a younger one while he was still in the pledging process, the purpose being for the new member to have a ready source of information and support. In his case, his "mentor" figure barely talked to him except to belittle him. Not to mention the fact that the upperclassmen had already snaked four girls, including his girlfriend from _before_ college, right out from under him.

"Screw you, Chuck!" he snapped, drink sloshing in his hand, before scanning the crowd again. "I could close the deal with any chick here, I don't have to go after anybody's leftovers. What about that blonde over there, in the blue skirt?"

"Where?" Chuck asked blithely before his amused disinterest became amused interest. "Her? Oh little brother, you do like to live dangerously. No, wait. You have no idea who that budding DEB princess holding court over there is do you, Duncan?"

"How should I know?" he shot back, never taking his eyes off his potential target. "I never saw her before tonight. I just know that she's hot and she isn't talking to any of the other brothers yet. So, gimme her rating. C'mon, Brent, what's she worth?"

"470," the pale Ivy Leaguer answered instantly.

Duncan almost dropped his red plastic cup at the staggering figure. His head jerked back and forth, one second searching for any sign of falsehood in the elder boy's expression, before snapping back to the girl to see if he could find any clue as to why she'd be so valuable. In his pledge class, no three members _combined_ had that many points racked up yet. He'd never even heard of any single girl with a P.O.O.N. so highly rated.

Identical twins, sure. But never one girl.

"I know what you're thinking," his Big Bro chimed in. "You want to know how some, admittedly tasty-looking, freshman walks in with those kind of numbers. Simple. She's a Venable."

"She's a what?" asked Duncan, clearly not following.

"It means that she's Dalton Venable's baby sister," he deadpanned. "Which, before you ask another stupid question, is only important because it means that she's Jackson Venable's daughter."

There was a pause as Duncan, even while he was silently fuming at being so blatantly insulted, seemed torn. Brent deduced the reason and, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, answered the "stupid question" the underclassman was struggling not to ask.

"Jackson Venable, Delta Class of '76," he explained. "You might've heard his nickname before, 'Stoneballs' Jackson. He's a Senior VP of New South Life and Casualty down in Georgia, which you'd know if you bothered to pay attention at any of the alumni dinners. Don't know how you could forget a guy who spends most of the dinner talking about all the ways you can make a murder look like a suicide."

"Why the hell would he want to make a murder look like a suicide!?" the younger man half shrieked, prompting the other two to shush him.

"Two reasons," Data answered, grinning evilly. "His company's life insurance policies have a suicide clause. It voids the policy so there's no payout, which is good for their bottom line. And the second reason…"

"The second reason is so that he can quietly and cleanly remove threats to his precious little girl's virtue," finished Chuck, loving the look of sheer terror that blossomed on Duncan's face.

"Uh…" It was another few seconds before he found his voice. "M-maybe one of the other girls she's with?"

"And there's the coward we've come to know and tolerate," his Big Bro said with false warmth, clapping him on the shoulder. "Mr. Data, your analysis?"

Eager to serve his primary function, though he silently wondered why he only thought of it as his "primary function" when his friends called him _Mr._ Data, he scanned the small crowd of ladies and prepared to render judgment.

"Okay," he began, totally in his element. "The little China girl, who just never seems to shut her mouth, ranks a 205. Miss Bollywood is a solid 190, would've been more if she had that red dot thing that says she's already spoken for. Ginger chick, she's hot but… meh, 125. Pale girl that looks disturbingly like she could be my sister gets a 175, but bear in mind that you're probably going to be thinking of me the entire time. Now, the other blonde starts off at 250, but I'll allow a bump up to 280 if you can provide photographic evidence of a true full-body tan."

Chuck nodded along with the assessments, then his eyes suddenly widened as one particular girl turned their way. It was only for a moment, but there was no doubt in his mind. He tapped his friend on the shoulder and gestured her way.

"I think you should take another look at the redhead, Brent," he offered, casually.

For just about anyone else, that would've earned a twenty minute rant about the P.O.O.N. rating system and how any decision he made was final. The history between them was enough to get him to reevaluate, albeit grudgingly, his numbers.

"Fine," he harrumphed. "You want me to look again, I'm looking again. Let me break this down for you. Her hair is worth 40, both for attractiveness and the stereotypical connotations associated with redheads. She's lacking up top, so a 20 there. Perky, yeah, but the girl couldn't fill a B-cup without raiding the tissue box. Her face's been hidden by her hair pretty much since I've been looking at her, so that's an absentee 5. The figure is pretty much her biggest selling point, her butt alone is worth the last 60 points. She's either a cheerleader or a gymnast because you only see ass like that on holy crap it's Kim Possible."

"I'm sorry," said Chuck, smugly. "I don't think I caught that last part. Mind repeating it?"

"That's Kim FREAKING Possible!" the pasty collegiate practically squealed.

At this, Duncan's eyes were glued to what had been a fairly unremarkable redhead only moments ago. With this new information, she was suddenly transformed into the single most unforgettable sight of his young life. Knowing somebody famous was going to your school was completely different from being in the same room with her. This is the sort of things you tell your kids about to prove that your life was interesting compared to the other dads in the neighborhood.

You know, provided she wasn't all old and ugly by then. Or maybe if she died young, but in some really spectacular way so that she stays famous.

Either way, good story.

A sharp click ended his wool gathering and he looked to see his Big Bro standing in front of him, hand in his face and ready to snap again.

"Back with us?" he asked with a smirk. "Now, before you drown yourself with you own salivary glands, I suggest you listen carefully. If you plan on trying your luck with her, you should at least know what's at stake, besides last scraps of your pride of course."

"Try my luck?" Duncan parroted as if in a daze.

"You're the one who was so sure he could 'close the deal' with any girl here," Chuck reminded him, suddenly sounding less insulting and more… proud? "As for points… Brother Data? What's a confirmed conquest of the world famous Kim Possible worth to you?"

"One hundred billion!" he said with no hesitation. "All-time high score, lifetime bragging rights, and I am officially your first disciple!"

Duncan, meanwhile, was still trying to get his head around the concept of actually walking up to an internationally known crime fighter who had saved the world multiple times, introducing himself, and trying to get into her panties like she was any other cute little co-ed.

But any other cute little co-ed wouldn't have their picture in newspapers and magazines in more countries than he could name. Any other pretty little co-ed wouldn't have had her 18th birthday celebrated in fraternity houses all over the country, this one included, with a "She's Finally Legal" party. No, this definitely did not fit into his established notions of reality.

"Oh no" Chuck wagged his finger, scolding him. "I see that look and I know exactly what it means. I'm not about to let you waste an opportunity like this. Listen, I haven't been the best mentor to you. I can admit that. But there comes a time when you just have to do right thing. For me, the right thing is to send you over there with the knowledge that you have as much chance with her as any of these other guys. For you, the right thing is to go over there and… make me proud."

His last words came with a slight mistiness of the eyes and a soft brush of his knuckles against Duncan's chin in timeless "go get 'em slugger" fashion.

The younger man was stunned, infinitely more so than he was minutes before. Seeing Kim Possible was actually kind of tame compared to the idea of his Big Brother treating him with anything resembling respect. It was more than encouraging, it was downright inspiring.

Duncan held his head up high, squared his shoulders, and turned to face his destiny.

Then he turned again. This time, in the direction of the beverage station.

One quick beer. _Then_ he'd face his destiny.

The two upperclassmen watched his progress, what little he was making, wearing polar opposite expressions. Brent was the picture of shock and disbelief, eyes wide and face, as unbelievable as it was, paler than usual.

"Are you out of your mind!?" he said in a bizarre cross between a whisper and a screech. "You sent _Duncan_ out to bag Kim Possible? What the hell do you expect a second-year brother, one with no game to speak of I might add, to do in a situation like that!?"

"Exactly what I expect him to, Brent." Chuck's smile seemed to stretch impossibly wide. "Exactly what I expect him to."

Meanwhile, across the room by the unused fireplace, Kim and the other ladies continued to get to know each other better. Savannah was a complete lifesaver, stepping in immediately if she seemed to be at a loss for words. The others were great, for the most part.

Max, being the only other girl born in the U.S. besides Vannah and herself, had heard the most about Kim's exploits but her New York attitude was enough keep any hero worship down to the barest minimum.

Mala struck her as being a kind and compassionate person, if a bit stiff and proper.

Lor was an experience to talk to, considering how free she was with certain topics that left Kim blushing worse than even her brothers had ever inflicted on her, but her sense of humor was as disarming as it was risqué.

Halle…

She hadn't made her mind up about Halle yet. As much as their personalities clashed, the arguments they'd into in the last hour alone had turned into some of the most intellectually stimulating discussions she'd had since coming to Harvard. They'd probably never be each others' maid of honor, but some kind of friendship was likely to form between them whether they wanted it to or not.

"It's about time." Speak of the she-devil. "Here I am, completely parched, and she's taking _twice_ as long as I did when it was my turn to get the drinks!"

"Sorry." Kim pointedly looked at every girl except Halle as she apologized and handed out the drinks in their red plastic cups. "There was a line at the table. Plus the only things that didn't smell like cheap liquor were the unopened bottles of soda, and I had to split three bottles six ways because that's all they'd let me take."

"Always have to make excuses, don't you Possible?" Halle shot back, then turned, snatched Mala's cup right out of her hand, took a generous sip, and handed it right back.

"Hey, what did you do that for?" Kim asked, indignantly. "I got you your own, you don't need to take anybody else's."

"I'm checking it for alcohol," she answered, smug like it was painfully obvious.

"I already told you, I poured them myself from the bottles," she countered. "I think I'm competent enough to keep a drink from getting spiked in the fifteen feet separating us from the drink table."

"It's alright, really," Mala herself cut in, cutting off whatever response Halle was planning. "I don't mind."

"Oh yeah, she's used to it by now." Max snickered a bit, which she failed to hide with her own cup.

"You mean you do this a lot?" The accusation came with a finger pointed at the future defense attorney.

"Or I do." Savannah gently pushed Kim's hand back down. "Or Maxine, or Laurette, whoever happens to be closest. Trust me, Sugah, it's for the best. Mala gets a little… rowdy when she drinks."

"I'll say, last time it took three weeks for the bruises to fade," muttered a momentarily less amused Maxine. "Curse my flawless porcelain complexion."

"Bruises?" Now Kim was completely lost. "You mean she attacks people when she's drunk?"

The idea was preposterous. There was no way she could reconcile the image of a drunken brawler with the prim girl who was currently blushing as deeply as her skin tone would allow.

"I suppose you could phrase it zat way," Lor giggled shamelessly at her friend's discomfort. "Mais non, it iz not what you think. Zee attacks are… 'ow do you say it? Amoureux?"

_Amoureux? As in "amourous?" _ Kim thought, and reddened at the implications. "You mean…?"

"Liquor gets her horny," Maxine finished indelicately, her hand reaching back to rub her left buttock. "I looked the other way so she could sneak a glass of wine, I wind up with five little finger-shaped bruises on my ass."

"Oh! So, Mala's a… um… which is fine," stammered Kim. "Of course it's fine. I mean, I was a cheerleader in high school. If I had a nickel for every time I walked in on two girls kissing… And I've even been asked to speak at the National Center for Lesbian Rights in San Francisco. Except they cancelled on me for some reason when they found out I wasn't bringing Shego, but I still fully support the rights of-"

"She's not gay, Possible," Halle broke in, unwilling to listen to anymore.

"She's not?" asked the redhead, before turning to the woman in question. "I mean, you're not? Then why…?"

"Because she's not that picky when she's had too much," Savannah explained. "She had a few sips of champagne at my brother's wedding and I had to pull her off of three different groomsmen. And the minister we hired to perform the ceremony. Poor thing loses every bit of her inhibitions, and then she's positively mortified the second she comes back to herself. She'll spend a week crying and calling her fiancé day and night to beg forgiveness."

"Fiancé?" Suddenly Kim was less embarrassed for herself about assuming Mala batted for the other team, and more embarrassed for her new friend who's metaphoric dirty laundry was being aired in a party setting.

"Back in Mumbai," said Lor, patting Mala gently on her shoulder. "It iz an arranged marriage. 'E 'az been 'er fiancé since zey were children."

"He's a wonderful person, really," Mala was quick to defend. "I know arranged marriages are considered barbaric in your culture, but I believe the divorce rate in India speaks for itself. More than ninety percent of couples stay together for life. Less than fifty percent of Americans can hope for that much."

Kim bit back the speech about freedom of choice, even though she really wanted to give an opinion. Sure, she loved her parents, but letting them decide who she was going to spend the rest of her life with?

_So_ not.

"I only wish he wasn't so far away," lamented the pre-med. "We grew up together. He even went to school in the same city as Ms. Laviter's Academy so we could visit on the week-ends. His father got him a job at the State Bank of India, otherwise he would have come with me to Harvard."

The girl's circumstances resonated deeply with the former teen hero. _It's almost the same story as me and Ron. Except for the betrothal, the longer distance, and the raunchy drunken parts, they're practically identical. _

She was about to say as much when she felt someone entering into her personal space.

"Hey… I'm , uh, feeling a little off today," came a voice from behind her that was both distinctly male and totally unfamiliar. "W-would you like to turn me on?"

Kim Possible was many things to many people but, as her authorized theme music clearly states, she is really just your basic average girl at heart. So, she did what any girl would do when presented with a pick up line like that.

"What?"

Turning to face her apparent admirer, she was immediately struck by, well… by the smell of beer, mostly. The contents of the red plastic cup sloshing in his right hand, added to what was on his breath, was practically an assault to her nostrils. The rest of him wasn't quite as offensive, he was average looking, if little on the thin side, with black hair that hung over his forehead and eyes that probably looked beadier than they actually were because of how much he was blinking.

"Hi, I'm Duncan," he said, declining to comment on his previous statement. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Um, no thank you." She lifted her left hand, the one holding her drink, to eye level. "I already have one. See?"

"Uh…" He was visibly sweating now, which didn't improve the smell. "You have really beautiful… uh… eyes, yeah. And you're… you have a nice neck."

_A nice neck? That's the best you could come up with?_ They'd never know it, but that was the thought going through all seven minds simultaneously. Well, one of them was thinking it in French, but still.

"What I'm trying to say…" His hand was shaking so badly that he'd already spilled half of his beer. "If you believe in walking by, no… Do believe in love and walking… no no NO!"

Tentatively, Kim reached out her hand, not liking the way his eyes clenched shut, the speed and shallowness of his breathing.

"Are you oka-" her fingertips were nearly to his shoulder when shouted back.

"JUST LET ME TALK, DAMNIT!"

She flinched at the words, and she wasn't the only one. Around them, their corner of the party screeched to a halt. Old instincts were kicking in for the semi-retired crime fighter, only now she wasn't so much worried about him as she was about what she might have to do. Things probably would've degraded from there if it wasn't for one calm, gentle voice.

"Duncan, you've had too much. I think you need to leave these ladies alone and sleep it off."

As one, they all turned to the newcomer. Tall, just shy of 6'4", with chestnut brown hair and eyes to match. He wore his blazer over a white turtleneck and pressed khakis. His soft tone conflicted with the hardness of his features as he looked at the smaller man in front of him. With a quick bow of his head to the gathered women, he took his fraternity brother by the arm and led to the stairs, pointing the way up to the living quarters. There was some muffled argument but, eventually, Duncan lost out and trudged up the stairs with his head hanging low.

"I'm sorry about all of this," he said as he got back, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Older brothers are supposed to try and set an example for the younger guys, but some learn slower than others. He shouldn't be coming back down any time soon. Again, I'm so very sorry. I promise that he's not the defining example of a Delta Iota Rho man."

"It's okay," Kim spoke up, accepting the apology for all of them. "I'm sure he meant well."

"I doubt we'll ever know what he meant. I think he was translating pick-up lines from Pig Latin at the end there," he joked, getting a short laugh for his trouble. "I'm Charles, by the way. Charles Holder. A pleasure to meet you."

"Kim," she replied. "Kim Possible."

"Yes, I know," Charles admitted, sheepishly. "I recognized you earlier. I think more than half the people here have recognized you by now. And I know they all appreciate what you've done for the world at large as much as I do. On behalf of the Deltas, thank you."

An easy smile was spread across his handsome face as he held out his hand.

"Well, it was never just me on those missions," she clarified, then put out her own hand to shake his, firmly. "but, on behalf of Team Possible, you're welcome."

Introductions continued all around. He was unassuming, but charming, even managing to greet Laurette in her native French. His Chinese was a little weaker, unable to give Halle anything more than a "good morning" in Mandarin. For Mala, he listed off menu items from his favorite Indian restaurant before apologizing and promising to learn more before their next meeting, something that got him laughs all around.

When he said that he hoped they'd enjoy the rest of the party, it really seemed that that would be the end of it. But then he turned back around.

"You know, now that Duncan's given it his shot, you're all a lot more likely to get hit on again, you especially," he said, looking directly at Kim for the last part. "It's the sort of thing where everyone kept back because nobody wanted to go first. Even if he did make an ass out of himself, he also set the bar pretty low if you know I mean. If that sounds appealing, then great. But, if not, I'd hate to see your night get ruined because some guys can't take a hint."

Taking a closer look around, Kim could see what he meant. There were more eyes focused on her then before, and their stares were hungrier. More demanding. _And my typical freak fighting strategies could get me arrested for assault if I use them here. _

"Still," Charles continued, "there _is_ a way to avoid getting hassled."

"And what would that be?" asked Savannah, sweetly but with an edge of something that Kim couldn't quite place, somewhere between curiosity, disbelief, and outright flirtation. "You plan to play chaperone?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking," he grinned innocently. "I'm not very big into the party scene, I normally only come to these things to make sure nothing goes wrong. But, I am an older brother, a lot of these guys remember me looking out for them as they were coming up. If I'm here, talking to you, they'll think I'm trying to chat one of you up and they'll give me plenty of space."

"And will you be chatting one of us up?" Max wondered, voice soft and eyes wicked.

"Not on purpose," he answered, refusing to match her tone. "Obviously, you're all gorgeous. I'd be lucky to date any of you, but I already said I'd be doing this to keep you from getting hassled. What kind of guy would I be if I tried to take advantage of the situation by hassling you myself?"

After a short group huddle to vote, they accepted the offer. Even thanked him for going to all the trouble for them. What they didn't know, was the answer to his question.

Simply put, the kind of guy it would make him was exactly the kind of guy he was.

Charles "Chuck" Holder, brother of Delta Iota Rho and the worst thing to happen to female college students since Girls Gone Wild.

WTOS

Looking out onto the makeshift dance floor, little more than a bare corner of the cellar with a raised "stage" that was really just a wine crate, Rufus could see why they referred to undomesticated animals as "wildlife." Sure he'd heard some things about what people did in mosh pits, but actually seeing one where fangs and claws were _required_ made humans seem almost civilized in comparison.

On stage performing was a group of rock wrens, who had ironically named their band "The Rock Wrens." They were little birds who tried to make up for their limited singing abilities by being as loud as possible. Thankfully, he could see a wood thrush warming up just beyond the crate, so the noise pollution would be over soon enough.

Daisy, meanwhile, had excused herself when she spotted a trio of shrews came in from night air. They were hanging around the entrance deep in conversation, stopping every so often to glance over at him and break into a fit of squeaky giggles. The mole rat waited patiently, leaning against an empty cask of amontillado wine. It wasn't until the wrens had finished their second encore, he'd almost scampered over and broke out the kung fu tail whup on the mockingbird that'd called out for a third one, that the females made their way over.

The shrews were introduced as Daisy's very best friends Naty, Ema, and Martie, or the closest equivalent to those names that a rodent could pronounce. They'd been anxious to meet the field mouse's "hero" so they could find out a few things for themselves. Rufus hadn't gotten the third degree this badly since a twelve pound wheel of cheddar had conveniently gone missing from the Stoppables' fridge. Naty, especially, seemed ready to lash out at any little fault she could find. He wasn't all that offended, shrews will be shrews after all, but he eagerly accepted Daisy's invitation to dance when the wood thrush finally got up to sing.

If he hadn't been raised among humans, Rufus might've politely declined her offer. In the animal world, dancing served a very specific purpose. It sent out crystal clear signals of intent that could be read by any that saw it, the desire to mark territory, the desire to scare away competition, the desire to mate…

Actually, when you get down to it, dancing in the human world really isn't all that different.

WTOS

"So, this is part of the courtship ritual?" Mac asked, eyes seemingly transfixed by the moving bodies on the dance floor. "At what point does interaction with the females begin?"

"As long as you're here, never." Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his jacket draped over one shoulder, Steve glared out at the dancers, silently fuming.

"Oh, come on!" groused Ron beside him. "You can't blame Mac for this."

"The hell I can't, Stoppable," he shot back. "Like my pops always told me, some guys are just plain bad luck. Aw for crying out loud… Man, how do you screw up a pop and lock that bad!? BOO!"

He cupped his hands around the sides of his mouth for emphasis, but nobody out on the floor seemed to care. Across the way, up against the far wall, young women by the dozens stood in various stages of boredom. Some were watching the dancers intently, others looked on with a casual interest, but most would just glance and scowl before turning back to her friends to complain.

On the main stage, the band looked to be about five minutes from calling the gig a washout. One guy was even on the phone to his aunt, seeing if it was too late for them to play his cousin's Bar Mitzvah. Apparently, you don't need a live band when you bring your own stereo boom box.

"I am unfamiliar with this terminology you use, Steve," said Mac, eyes shifting quickly between the irritated athlete and the spectacle in front of him. "To 'pop' a lock suggests safe breaking, the 'screwing' implies the use of a drill. I see no evidence of burglary in the first place, let alone anything to support the idea that it is being done poorly."

"You don't see a burglary?" Steve asked in disbelief. "What do you call that mess?"

He gestured wildly with his hands towards the "crime" in progress.

"I would call their actions 'dancing.'" Mac answered. "I was not aware of any mess, beyond the increased degree of perspiration caused by their vigorous activity and the poor ventilation in this structure."

The dance floor had been cleared completely except for a handful of young men, all similarly dressed and all moving to the sounds of vintage hip hop.

In their hearts, they were legends. They gave themselves to the music; put it all on the line. They were swift. They were sure. They were confident.

They were b-boys.

They were fairly awful.

"That," Steve said, pointing at the break dancing youths, "is the unwarranted theft of my peoples' culture, perpetrated by six skinny white boys with no rhythm!"

"Yeah, they suck," agreed a fullback Ron hadn't formally met. "And, 'cause of them, nobody gets to dance, which means none of us are gonna score tonight, which means this whole thing was a huge waste of time!"

"Again, I'm uncertain as to your reasoning." Mac's entire focus was on the dancers, now, as if to look for some hidden truth. "I was made aware of the involvement of rhythmic movements done to accompanying harmonic patterns in the courtship process; Ron explained that much earlier tonight. These males have been fulfilling this behavioral requirement for the past fifty-three minutes, fourteen seconds. I fail to see what is preventing the advance to subsequent stages of the proceedings."

Blank looks all around, which is not surprising considering that while definitely a cut above the typical scholar-athlete, none of the players had taken graduate level anthropology. Ron, being the roommate and keeper of his fellow Miski student, finally spoke up.

"Mac, I'm not really sure what any of that means, but the reasons most of these guys came to this thing, yourself included, was to meet girls. Now, yeah, there's dancing involved, but it doesn't work for you to just be standing here watching other people dance."

"Then we're meant to participate?" asked Mac.

"Yes!" Ron said, excited that his friends seemed to be getting it. "Participation is most abso-tively posi-lutely key here."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense. The male must prove to the female that he is fit to breed by engaging in this physically demanding display of agility." The understanding on Mac's face slowly faded as he made another observation. "But, if that is the case, why is it that no females have approached them so far?"

Ron palmed his face with a loud slap. He was about to try again when Steve opted to explain it himself.

"Because they're not dancing with chicks, man. They're just dancing. Here's the deal. Men come to these things to get laid, get busy, perform the courtly courtship ritual, or whatever else you call it. Yeah, we dance. We dance to impress women. Yeah, we drink. We drink to get brave enough to ask women to dance so we can _impress women_. Women, now get ready for this, they come here for the exact same reasons we do. The difference is that they can still have a good time just drinking and dancing if they're not impressed enough. They'll settle for that if we can't get out there and show 'em that we're worth their time. Now, are you feeling me, Mr. Thesaurus? 'Cause I can't explain it any simpler than that."

"So, in order to progress to effective interaction with these women…" Mac looked deeper in thought than anyone outside of a quantum physics classroom had any right to be. "We must be allowed to dance with them."

"And, for once, we're on the same page," Steve said without smiling. "Not that it makes any kind of difference, unless somebody can get those wannabe jackasses to pack up and go home."

With that, he slumped back against the wall, silently lamenting their situation. The other players all seemed to share his sense of hopelessness.

All but one, that is.

"Gentlemen," he said, tone harsh and face serious. "Get ready fill up those dance cards. Those b-boys are going down."

"Hell yeah!" shouted an overeager defensive end. "We can take these guys easy! On three, we grab 'em and take 'em out to the alley behind the dumpster. I call the one in the fake gold chains. Okay one… two…"

"Whoa, wait STOP!" Ron's serious face dropped for a second as he put a restraining hand on his teammate. "I didn't mean 'going down' like 'hey, let's start a fight and get kicked off the team, out of school, and into a state correctional facility – going down.'"

"Then what, I don't… why…?" he murmured, visibly deflating at the loss of his opportunity for violence.

"Yeah, Ron," said Steve, looking interested. "What did you have in mind?"

"Guys," he began, looking at each man in turn. "I wasn't always like this, the suave, mature man of the world you all know."

He ignored the spontaneous coughing and continued.

"Back in high school, I even had a little trouble fitting in. I know, shocking. So, yeah, I wore the baggy pants with too many pockets. I bought man jewelry and referred to it as 'bling.' And yes, I have said the words 'I'm a bon-diggety dansah!' Those guys out there, I know them. I know how they think; I can get inside their heads. And there's only one thing their attention-whoring, Ebonics-thieving minds are gonna understand. So, are you guys with me?"

Some nodded. Most still hadn't gotten over the 'bon-diggety dansah' comment.

"Steve, are you with me, man?" he asked.

"At this point, Ron, I'm down for whatever," the taller man answered, indifferently. "I figure this'll either get them out of here, or it'llx wind up blowing up in your face and I get a good laugh. I'm good, either way."

"Hey!" he cried, indignantly. "You're probably right, but still. Look, I gotta go talk to the band, but when I get back…"

In hushed tones, he told his friend the general outline of the plan, along with what he expected Steve to do and when to do it. There were a few raised eyebrows but, in the end, he would go along with it. One fist bump later, Ron was on his way over to the stage where the musicians were all in various stages of irritation and boredom.

It took some convincing, they were going to get paid for the gig regardless after all, but they all got on board after he paid their five-dollar song request fee. Ron left, muttering about sell-out mercenaries, but thrilled that he'd guessed right and this particular cover of the well-known tune was part of the band's repertoire. He wasn't sure who'd covered the song originally, he wanted to say Extra-Terrestrial Roach Motel but that was way off, but it didn't matter right then.

It was time to go to work.

All at once the music stopped, some of the dancers actually trying to pause in mid-maneuver before falling very painfully. Every eye in the place was on the stereo, then on the foot that rested on the "power" button. The owner of the foot stood silently, arms folded. His blond head was cocked to one side and a single eyebrow arched, eerily similar to a certain professional wrestler turned legitimate thespian.

"You suckahs mus' be outside yo minds, bringin' this weak sauce up in ma house!" he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Who y'all think you is, anyway?"

The b-boys traded looks of confusion. It was obvious that nobody'd ever approached them like this, let alone straight up insulted them. Eventually, one of them broke off stepped up, puffing out his chest and looking down his nose at the interloper. Under his sideways ball cap, you could just make out his 'fade' haircut that, thanks to his bleached hair and pasty complexion, looked more like a skin condition than a fashion statement.

"We Da Thunda from Unda Crew!" he shouted proudly, oblivious to the fact that the name could be a euphemism for flatulence. "So who you be, comin' in an' messin' up da flow, chump?"

"You ain't got skillz enough to know ma name, son!" Ron leaned forward, his closeness and volume forcing the crew's spokesman a step back. "All you gotta know is I want you and your little pixie scout troop off my dance floor!"

"Y-yeah!?" the apparent leader squeaked, before stepping forward again and rebuilding his bravado. "Well we ain't leavin' this hizzy 'less you can make us leave, foo!"

"Well awwwriiiiight!" He grinned like crocodile, ignoring the growing pain in his throat. _Jeez, I forgot how loud you have to talk to fit in with these schmucks. And to think, this is where I could've ended up if it wasn't for Kim. She is __**so **__getting something from Country Club Banana for our next halfa-versary._ "It's ON!"

And, like the throwing of the gauntlet, war was declared. They couldn't back out, not without resigning themselves to shame and dishonor. Because it was on. Those were the rules. Who had written them, why they were expected to follow them, nobody knew. They only knew that it was something bigger than them.

The Code of the Poser.

"You got no crew," the spokesman said, voice suddenly low and serious.

"I gots all I need," Ron answered in the same tone. "Winner stays. Losers walk. We go by how loud it gets up in here, you feel me? You ladies go first."

Again, they had no choice but to comply. Snatching the boom box from under Ron's foot, the shaken youth went back to his friends and the six of them huddled up. The conference was short, it didn't take them long to choose their weapon. Setting their stereo down a few feet in front of them, they faced their opponent in a line and waited for the beat to start.

What followed might actually be too horrible to describe. Imagine watching an army of fire ants marching over carcasses of fallen puppies. Imagine the sound of a million chainsaws slaughtering a million veal calves all at once. Imagine the wailing cries of all the circles of Hell as they flood with molten lead and the blood of the damned boils in unspeakable agony.

Now forget all that and imagine five idiots doing variations on "the robot" while a sixth idiot does clumsy somersaults in the background. This would devolve into what they thought was a synchronized routine, filled with freezes that didn't freeze, rocks that didn't rock, and airs that never got more than three inches off the ground.

For their big finish, they brought out a motorcycle helmet. Nobody wanted to think about where they'd been hiding it, Ron least of all. The smallest member of the crew put it on and the rest of them gathered around as he went down for a very shaky headstand. After about a minute of false starts, the little guy finally moved his hands away and gave the signal. Working as one, the others took hold of his arms and legs and tugged him into a spin. He was completely surrounded, removing the possibility of him falling over but limiting the overall speed of the maneuver. Still, it was the most impressive thing he'd seen from them all night.

_Now that's a depressing thought…_ Ron mused.

It ended with a brief smattering of applause from the assembled crowd. Da Thunda From Unda Crew looked cocky, thoroughly pleased with their performance. He can only hope he was never that deluded in high school, though he'll admit that he probably wasn't that far off.

He says nothing, only turns to the stage and points to the drummer, who raises his sticks in the air and does a quick four-count. Immediately the guitarist launched into a biting riff, distortion pedal down to the floor as he ground out some familiar opening notes. Ron stood there for a long moment, then let out a quick breath and broke into a dead sprint to where Steve was waiting, leg braced behind him and both hands palm-up on his thigh.

The former sidekick didn't even slow, gasps rising from the partygoers as they waited for an impact that never came. Without breaking stride, Ron stepped up onto his teammate's waiting hands only to be lifted up with every ounce of strength the lanky guy had in him. He flexed at just the right moment and was sent into a back flip easily twenty feet in the air. Still on the rise, he tucked and rolled once, twice, again and again before he straightened up just in time to land with a thud that everyone gathered felt through the soles of their shoes.

Eyes widened as they began to process what'd just happened. Standing there as if nothing had happened, Ron slowly brought a hand up to his head, drawing attention to the white fedora that had appeared there as if by magic.

Off to the side, Steve had a big grin on his face as he stood, his do rag now uncovered since his friend snatched off his hat in mid-flight. It was all coming together now. A white jacket and a white hat with a black band. There was no doubt in his mind what was coming next and, just at that moment, his suspicions were confirmed as the first lyrics of the song blared out of the speakers.

_As he came into the window _

_Was a sound of a crescendo _

_He came into her apartment _

_He left the bloodstains on the carpet_

Tugging his new hat down over his eyes, Ron went from standing still to a flurry of movement. His feet moved fluidly, hips and shoulders in perfect harmony. Anyone could see these moves for what they were, an homage to the King of Pop.

_She was sitting at the table _

_He could see she was unable _

_So she ran into the bedroom _

_She was struck down _

_It was her doom _

Head down, one hand on his hat and the other behind him and out wide from his body, Ron began the quintessential technique made famous by the original writer of the song. Putting out one leg as if to take a step forward, he let it slide back underneath him before taking a similar step with his other leg. It was exactly what everyone suspected, but no one suspected what he was going to do next.

_Annie, are you OK _

_Are you OK _

_Are you OK, Annie _

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_Are you OK, Annie _

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_You OK, Annie _

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_Are you OK, Annie_

The term 'pop and lock' refers to a dancer tensing and releasing joints and muscles so that they freeze in place between every movement. Even as Ron continued to moonwalk, the liquid smoothness of it was suddenly broken up. Ron was alternating moments of tension with movements so fast that you could barely see them. This was no ordinary pop and lock, this was a human strobe effect. At the last "Annie," he threw himself backwards on his outstretched hand and exploded into a series of one-handed back handsprings.

_Annie, are you OK _

_Will you tell us that you__'__re OK  
There__'__s a sign at the window _

_That he struck you _

_A crescendo, Annie _

_He came into your apartment _

_He left the bloodstains on the carpet _

_Then you ran into the bedroom _

_You were struck down _

_It was your doom_

The last handspring shifted into a one-armed freeze, his body locked in what would've been called a handstand if his body hadn't been practically sideways instead of straight up and down. _Sensei said I couldn't use my Monkey Powers on the football field, but he never said anything about using them at parties,_ Ron thought, eyes glowing blue behind the dark hat band.

Swinging his legs around, he alternated his hands on the ground while his feet arced through the air like a gymnast's on a pommel horse. It was actually a mimicry of the Di Tang Quan "ground tumbling boxing" style of kung fu he'd learned as a supplement to his Tai Sheng Pek Qwar training at Yamanouchi.

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_Are you OK, Annie _

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_Are you OK, Annie _

_Annie, are you OK _

_You OK _

_Are you OK, Annie _

_You__'__ve been hit by _

_You__'__ve been struck by _

_A smooth criminal_

He'd told the bad to skip ahead to the instrumental ending at this point. It time for his big finish. One final twirl of his legs and his feet shot up into the air, leaving him in a ramrod straight headstand. With a quick jerk of both arms in opposite directions, he was spinning. Faster and faster his arms pushed him into the spin, until the momentum was so strong that he folded both arms over his chest and began flinging out his legs to keep it going. Hearing the instrumental winding down, he pulled out the last stop and shot his right arm up, or down depending on your perspective, to push himself off the floor and into the air.

_You've been hit by_

_You've been struck by_

Corkscrewing upwards, he righted himself at the top of his arc and shot down, faster than gravity should've allowed. One arm still tight against his chest, he used his free right hand to flick the brim of his hat up and away from his eyes.

_A smooth criminal._

He winked a now brown eye at the break dancers in front of him, all six standing wide-eyed open-mouthed at what they'd seen. They were still like that a few seconds later when the cheers erupted from either side of them. Clapping, shrill whistles, and general shouts of amazement were almost deafening in the enclosed space.

Ron lifted a single hand and made a cutting motion and the cheering died down. With the same hand, he made an "approach" gesture behind him, a signal he'd worked out earlier in the planning stages. Still walking like chafed bull-rider, Mac broke off from the crowd of footballers to stand beside his friend and roommate. He looked at the six challengers before him, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"You have gotten served."

"Meh, close enough." Ron smiled and shrugged, putting an arm around Mac's shoulder.

Another cheer rang out, and Da Thunda From Unda Crew walked away with heads hanging and shoulders stooped, probably off to drown their sorrows in wine coolers from their moms' refrigerators.

"My people!" Ron shouted, arms raised like a victorious gladiator. "What're you all just standing around for? Let's DANCE!"

The band shot him a grateful look before finally getting to the first song on their playlist. On the dance floor, mobs of young men and women met like waves crashing in the ocean, quickly forming into a single pulsing mass of bodies.

"My hat!" a familiar voice from behind shouted suddenly, snatching the item of clothing off Ron's head. "What the hell did you do to my hat!?"

Ron got his first good look at the once pristine fedora as it lay cradled in Steve's hands. The top was now completely flat, having lost its trademark angular shape, and the dull gray color from the all the ground in dust clashed with the bone white sides and brim. He'd just opened his mouth to apologize when he found himself completely surrounded by close to a dozen fine examples of feminine hotness.

They were all pressed up against him as tight as they could, saying things that ranged from "you're such a good dancer" to "that was _so_ amazing" and "do you want to dance?" to "do you want to get out of here?" to "I know a stall in the mens room here that actually locks. Meet you there in five minutes?" Somehow he managed to keep a clear head in the midst of all of it, and thought of a way he might be able to pay his friend back for the damaged apparel.

"Steve, man, I am so sorry about your hat!" he said, sending all eyes to his taller compatriot. "I thought I could pull off that last move without hurting it, but I guess there's still a lot for you to teach me about dancing."

"Wait, you taught him all that?" one of the girls asked, suddenly looking at Steve with new eyes.

"You bet he did," Ron answered, not giving his buddy a chance to deny it. "Taught me every move I know. And I'm so honored he was still willing to teach me after his tragic injury."

"Yeah…" he echoed uncertainly. "My, uh… my injury."

"His entire dancing career, cut down in its prime," Ron continued, laying it on thick. "And all because he saved a box full of kittens from being run over by that eighteen-wheeler. Now he has to go with his Plan B, playing college football for an Ivy League university."

"Aww, you poor baby," one of the girls lamented, rushing to Steve's side where she was joined by the others. "That's the saddest thing I ever heard."

"You're so brave," added another, softly stroking his cheek. "And so sweet, teaching your little friend how to dance."

"Well, I… heh…" Steve, looking out at the sea of beautiful faces looking at him with a mix of awe and desire, couldn't help but grin. "It's no big deal, really. I'm just trying to leave the world a little better than I found it, you know? Hey, why don't we all talk some more back at my dorm room? I can tell you about some of my old glory days."

As Steve made his way to the door with his new entourage, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed an emphatic "thank you" to Ron before giving him a thumbs-up, which Ron happily returned. Needless to say, neither of them was feeling all that bad about the hat.

"Well Mac, old buddy," he said, reaching up to ruffle his roommate's hair. "The party's saved and a potential fedora crisis was averted. All that's left for us to do tonight is find you a girl… to… dance…?"

His words trailed off, his voice fading to nothing, as he looked across the crowded floor into a shadowy corner of the building. It was impossible, what he was seeing, it had to be. But there they were, shining emeralds in the dark. In the dimness, he couldn't make out anything else, not a single thing except those eyes. Eyes he'd know anywhere, even from this distance.

"Kim?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

And just then, as if she'd heard him, she stepped forward into the light, and he saw. But what he saw only left him that much more confused. How do you react to seeing the eyes you fell in love with staring out of a stranger's face?

_Okay, time out! Those are __**not**__ KP's eyes._ Ron shook his head furiously, as if to shake the thought from his head. _A lot of girls have green eyes. This is just a severe case of girlfriend withdrawal. _He looked again, intent on proving that this girl looked nothing like his best friend and partner. And sure enough, aside from the eyes, he couldn't find a trace of Kim no matter where he looked.

Not when he looked at the girl's tanned complexion, much darker than Kim's ever was. No, this girl's flawless skin reminded him of soft, creamy caramel, of rich coffee with milk. It was much closer to Bonnie Rockwaller's luscious tan, or the dusky features of his one-time crush, Zita Flores.

No trace of red in hair, either. Not a single strand of auburn in the flowing black locks. He watched as it swayed behind her, reaching down to the curves of her hips, as it shone like handfuls of diamonds thrown across a blanket of silk. He felt his hand twitching. It never failed, seeing hair like that, wanting to run his fingers through it. Even when the hair had belonged to Shego.

And speaking of Shego, the curves this girl sported were much closer to the green-hued villainess' own hourglass figure than they were to his girlfriend's more modest frame. In his mind, he could contrast the two easily. Especially considering what she was wearing to cover those generous assets. He'd seen almost the exact same outfit on Kim more than a year ago, and her little black dress hadn't stretched over her body like this. No, not like this.

He felt a tugging in the back of his mind. Like a small voice whispering to him that something wasn't right. This same feeling often warned him, too late, that his pants were down around his ankles, but that wasn't it. Didn't stop him from checking, though, experience taught him not to ever take that for granted. No, something else was off. Maybe the green-eyed girl knew. Was that why she was coming this way?

_Wait, she's coming this way?_ That same tugging tried to turn his head, to make him walk away. Unfortunately, his conscious mind was occupied as he watched her walking towards him. Specifically, he was thinking about all the times people had accused him of being unable to stand still for any length of time. They'd always had this insulting tone they'd use to say it, but he had to wonder. If they could see what he was seeing…

She was always in motion. Never hurried, but never hesitating. Not fast, but smooth as dripping honey. As she came closer, the crowd seeming to part between them, she added the slightest of rolls to her hips on each step. The movement flowed to a natural rhythm, one that he could've almost swore he heard. He looked over at the stage when he realized he really did hear something.

The drummer tapped out the beat, his sticks hitting the metal rim of one of his drums, giving it a sharper, snappier sound. Suddenly, the guitar player who hadn't previously shown any evidence of knowing more than three chords, let out a lick worthy of Carlos Santana. Ron would've been more impressed by it if the guy hadn't been hamming it up so much, looking down at his hands like he was shocked that he could play that well.

When he turned his head again, he finally noticed that the crowd actually had parted, no one standing closer than ten feet away from the raven-haired beauty. She wasn't coming towards him anymore, but that didn't mean she'd stopped moving.

The roll of her hips had upgraded to a full gyration in time with the syncopated rhythm that saturated the room. Her hands glided upwards across those hips to her sides, then slithered up and around the swell of her breasts before they met at the nape of her neck and continued on up into her hair. Her body swayed like willow branches in a gentle wind.

The tempo picked up, gaining energy, and her feet started moving again. The guitar wailed over the amplifier as she went into a routine that wouldn't have looked out of place in a music video. Every step was bold, confident. Her hair fanned around her with every spin, seeming to float on the air. Weightless. Effortless. And no matter what she did, her green eyes always came back to him.

And then, with a final flourish, it was over. The partygoers whooped and whistled, the male population anyway. Ron barely heard it. He was slightly more concern by the fact that she was walking his way again.

No, check that. Bounding his way. Bounding in a way that caused certain things bounce. Certain things that left a consummate distraction professional feeling… distracted.

"¿_Me miró usted_?"

"Wha… huh?" Ron articulated, blinking rapidly to clear the haze.

She'd apparently stopped her bounding and was standing less than three feet away. Standing face to face, he was genuinely surprised at what he saw. She was beautiful, of course. But he couldn't see any of the conceited smugness he'd come to expect from gorgeous women. If anything, she looked giddy. Her emerald eyes shining with excitement as her red lips wore a smile of pure joy.

"Did you see me?" she repeated in lightly accented English. "I saw you dance. _¡Fantástico!_ I never saw anyone move like that before."

"Ah well, I don't know about that," he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I bet there's a lot of guys that could do those moves."

He wasn't lying. He left out the part where the guys who could do them were super villains, ninjas, or mystically empowered mole rats, but he wasn't lying.

"Oh no no no!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and taking another half step forward. "It's so much more than what you did. A monkey could do that."

Ron bit down the urge to whistle nonchalantly. _Lady, you don't know how right you are._

"It's _how_ you did it," she continued. "Passion, freedom. You show your soul when you dance. It was beautiful."

There was something all too familiar shining in those familiar eyes. Ron felt a surge of panic which was, for him, also very familiar. He needed an out, quick before she got her hopes up too high. _A drop-dead sexy girl dances up to me in the middle of a crowded party and starts giving me the eye, and my biggest problem is figuring out how to let her down gently. When did this become my life?_

Glancing to his left, he realized to his joy that they weren't alone. His roommate, bless his big awkward heart, was still standing right next to him. All it would take is another strategically placed fib and his other new Miski friend would be set. Mac was a great guy; she'd like him just fine.

"Hey, if you're into dancing, my buddy Mac here taught me everything I-" he began, but stopped when he heard a sharp noise from beside him. The closest thing he could compare it to would be a cough, but there was something decidedly unnatural about it.

"Actually, Ron, I believe I'll be returning to the dorms, now," the lanky student stated firmly, his eyes never leaving the girl's face. "I appreciate all of your assistance tonight. There is much to process tomorrow, so it would be prudent for me to rest beforehand. I can secure my own transportation, don't worry about that. Good night."

With that, he backed away. He didn't turn, not until he'd already reached the exit. He'd stared at her the entire time, almost like he was afraid to look anywhere else.

_Aw, c'mon, Mac_, Ron whined internally. _I thought we were past the low self-esteem thing. You're never gonna get back in the dating scene if you run every time you see a pretty girl_.

"I'm really sorry about that," he said, turning back away from the door his friend had used. "Look, um… I don't think I got your name."

"Yidhra," she practically purred, holding her hand out palm-down for him to take. "Yidhra De Siempre."

"Yidhra?" he repeated. "That's a new one on me. I've never met a Yidhra before."

"It's an old family name," she explained. "It's wasn't common back home in Havana, either."

"Well, good to meet'cha," he said, nervously. "I'm-"

"I know who you are, _Ron Stoppable_." She cut off his introduction and, when she said his name, she seemed to taste it.

And she rolled the "R" in "Ron." He loved the sound of his name pronounced that way. It was one of the main reasons he'd crushed so hard on Zita back in high school. He forgot he was still holding her hand until he felt her bring up her other hand to trap his in between, lightly stroking his knuckles.

"Don't look so surprised," she scolded him playfully. "The whole world should know who you are by now, _si_? Even back in Cuba they would put your picture all over the _telenoticias_ or in the newspapers. Ron Stoppable the hero."

This… did not compute.

"You mean Kim Possible the hero, right?" he said in disbelief, even as he gently took back his hand. "Or maybe Ron Stoppable the sidekick? I know we never took any missions in Cuba, all that political junk, but I really don't think they could've gotten the facts that mixed up."

"And I don't think they mixed up any facts at all," said Yidhra, warmly. "But you are dodging my question. Did you see me dance?"

"Y-yeah, I saw it," he stammered. She'd inched in as she asked it, now barely a foot of space between them. "You're really good. And this is coming from a former member of his high school cheer squad, so you know I know what I'm talking about. Badical moves."

"I'm glad you liked it," she half whispered. "I danced for you, Ron. Only for you."

"Huh. Well that's… that's just… huh."

He wanted to step backwards, make some distance, but there always happened to some couple dancing just behind him every time he tried to take a step. All of a sudden, the intense look he'd seen on her face faded to something decidedly more impish. With a giggle she pirouetted in place, and then stepped around to the now empty space behind him. It was the sort of thing he would've expected from Tara back home in Middleton. He'd always admired the platinum blonde cheerleader for her carefree, playful attitude, way before he'd ever even begun to suspect she might be interested in him.

"So…" she drawled, speaking into one slightly oversized ear, then the other, then back. "You dance for me… And I dance for you… Now we must dance together, _si_?"

"Si… I mean no!" he sputtered as she darted back in front of him and stared expectantly. "Look Yidhra, you seem like a really nice girl. And you're pretty and you're talented and any guy in here would be crazy not to be interested. But, the thing is, I'm with somebody."

"Is she here?" asked Yidhra, playfulness seeming to drain out of her tone.

"Well, no but-"

"Then, whoever she is, she is not here to dance with you. I asked you to dance, not to ravish me in the alley. Or did you think that I'm the type of _chica_ who takes every man I dance with into my bed?"

"No!" shouted Ron, hands up to reinforce the denial. "I don't think that at all, it's just-"

"Shh!" She silenced him with a slender finger pressed to his lips. "No more words. _¡Bailamos!_"

And with that she turned around, but not before grabbing both of his hands to place on her hips. He didn't remove them. Oh he wanted to but, if there was one weakness that Ron had never quite overcome, he still had trouble saying no to an assertive female. As horrible as she'd treated him back at Middleton High, Bonnie and her domineering 'tude had gotten to him in ways that weren't completely unpleasant.

Besides, it was just dancing. Right?

A good distance away by a far wall, three sets of eyes watched as Ron started "just dancing" with his new acquaintance. Two looked worried, even as the third wore a secret smile. The peroxide blond spoke to her sandy-haired friend.

"How can you be so blasé about this, Marie," she asked. "First you stake a claim on that guy in front of all the other girls on the squad, and now you don't even seem upset to see him dancing with some Flamenco floozie!"

Marie smiled wider and shook her head, blonde ringlets dancing across her shoulders.

"Melanie, you should know me better than that," she chided her friend. "If I wanted that boy in my arms at this moment, my arms are where he would be. I have… plans for him, but I won't make my move until I'm sure it's the right time. The only reason I told you and the others to stay away is that I'd feel so much worse if I had to steal him away from one of my precious friends. You're not thinking of changing your minds on me, are you ladies?"

"Of course not, Marie," Melanie said emphatically. "We promised. Right Teri?"

The brunette beside her nodded, but stared back out onto the dance floor with something like longing.

"We did. Never would'a guessed he'd give me a reason t' regret it." Teresa lamented, her soft Cajun accent showing through. "Coo, dat boy can dance. Big sister always said, find a man dat's magic on his feet, he gonna be magic offa dem."

"Would that be the same sister that ran off with her rumba instructor?" asked Marie.

"Just shows you she been practicin' what she preaches," she shot back with a wicked grin. "Now I know 'bout you femmes, but I don't plan t' sit and cry over dat boy when there's plenty others to pick from."

"Teresa, I think you have something there," her friend and longtime squad captain agreed, taking both girls by the hand and leading them onto the floor. "Laissez les bon temps roulez!"

Even as Ron started to get into the dance, he got the sense that he wasn't doing all the leading. It was confirmed when he found himself pressed up against the stage where the band members were hastily clearing a space. He looked at his dance partner, his brows raised in confusion. Her response was to throw her arms around his neck and jump, forcing him to catch her in a bridal carry. She tilted her head towards the stage and, oblivious as he might be, he got the message. A microsecond's worth of Mystical Monkey mojo in his leg muscles and he had them both on stage in a single leap.

"Okay…" he said, completely conscious of all the people now staring at them. "What now?"

He let her down, despite her reluctance, and she put out a dainty hand. The lead singer practically fell over himself to hand her his microphone.

"You want to know what happens now?" she asked, throwing him a wink over her shoulder. "_Oye_…"

The band roared to life, a quick tempo tune with Latin flavor. Quick as a striking cobra she snatched his hand and dragged him up flush against her. The mic was suddenly at her lips and she let out a shout.

_Sal-SA!_

Yidhra moved against him, the beat seeming to flow out of her and into his own body. Almost without even trying, he matched her. His feet tapped in time with hers and their hips moved in tandem.

_Mi salsa es caliente!_

_Mi cuerpo pide - oye!_

_Mi cuerpo pide - oye!_

_Oye! Oye! Oye!_

The music soared as she broke into the chorus. Her voice rang out, caressing the ears. Ron would've bet his last naco that Brittina couldn't have aced those notes even in her prime.

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_Vamos a bailar _

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_No quiero parar _

She turned now, bringing them face to face again and moving so that their audience saw them in profile. Their dance became a kind of call and response. He would dance her backwards, she would do the same. As the first verse rolled off her tongue, she kept her eyes on him.

_Hey boy, I see you lookin'_

_I know you're watchin'_

_But you won't make that move_

_Oye, I know you want me_

_I'm trying to show you_

_There's no way you can lose, oh baby_

_C'mon over here and give me what I want_

_If you don't know how, I'll teach you fast_

_We don't have to worry 'bout tomorrow now_

_I know that I want you and I want this night to last_

She spoke to him, even as she sang. They weren't her words, he was pretty sure he'd heard this song sometime in the mid-90s riding in the car with his mom, but Ron couldn't help but worry that she meant every bit of it. While she sang another round of the chorus, he tried his darndest to keep a picture of Kim in the front of his mind. _She_ was the one he wanted, the one he loved. This was nothing, just a friendly dance.

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_Vamos a bailar _

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_No quiero parar _

Thoughts like that went immediately out the window as she threw herself back, forcing him to lunge and catch her in an improvised dip. She'd kicked up her left leg when she'd done it and, in a show of flexibility, she was now resting her heel on his shoulder. When she started the second verse, she pulled herself in closer to him without lowering her leg. Catcalls echoed through the room as she inched further and further into a standing split, their pelvic areas closer to touching with every passing second as he felt her smooth calf glide along his chest.

_There now, a little closer_

_Just hold me tighter_

_And you'll be doing fine_

Ron was fairly sure that holding her any closer would see them arrested for public indecency.

_Ronnie! (ahhh…) that's what you feel like!_

He almost did a double take when he heard her improvised line. A blush spread over his cheeks when he heard her gasp rather suggestively after saying his name.

_You warm my body_

_Just like the bright Ronshine_

At this point, he fought the urge to clean out his ears. He had to have heard her wrong because, unless he'd missed something, "Ronshine" hadn't exactly made it into the general vernacular.

_Everytime i touch you I feel no worries_

_I discover things I never knew_

_Feeling this desire coming over me_

_Can no longer fight it I just want to be with you_

They were almost nose to nose, the microphone brushing against their chins. Her voice had gotten lower, huskier, the further she went. Those green eyes seemed to look through him, inside him, deeper than he'd ever thought possible…

Possible…

"Kim," he breathed, snapping out of it and leading his partner into a quick spin. It had the desired effect, as they were no longer pressed up against each other. She wagged a finger as if to scold him, but the smile never left her face as they went back into their dance to finish out the song.

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_Vamos a bailar _

_Oye mi cuerpo pide salsa _

_Y con este ritmo _

_No quiero parar _

_No quiero parar _

_No quiero parar _

The microphone dropped to the floor with a thud as the last strains of the song faded. The deafening applause and shouts for more went ignored as Yidhra led her new friend downstage to a short set of stairs. Ron marveled at the way the crowd parted again, the ones closest to them giving the space even as the people behind them pushed to get closer.

They stopped at a particleboard folding table covered in drinks, specifically iced water. Unlike the alcoholic drinks being sold across the room, these were free and were there for a specific purpose. One Yidhra seemed to have firmly in mind as she handed him a full glass and took one for herself.

"Drink," she said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "You're overheated. I don't care if you're not thirsty, the body doesn't register thirst until _after_ it's already dehydrated."

He was bringing the clear plastic cup to his mouth when he saw her reach into her own water and pull out one of the larger ice cubes. Without so much as a "may I," she pressed it to Ron's forehead, melting water soon mingling with the beaded sweat. He froze, in a way totally unrelated to actual cold, as she rubbed it against both of his cheeks before she withdrew her hand brought the ice to her own brow.

If you were to ask Ron Stoppable what his first truly sexual experience was, he'd tell you about the time Kim Possible, under the effects of Cyrus Bortel's Moodulator, had him pressed up against his locker with her tongue exploring his mouth.

In this case, he would be lying.

Ron's first experience of a sexual nature happened about three years earlier, the summer immediately following his Bar Mitzvah. Yes, there was a Possible involved. Yes, she had red hair.

No, she wasn't Kim.

He'd been outside in the Possibles' backyard, helping his best friend finish her weekend chores early by pulling weeds and spreading fertilizer. The sun was hot, unusually so for the small Colorado town, and had opted to wear the hockey jersey Kim had got him for that special thirteenth birthday. Anne Possible shouldn't have been surprised at that, Ron's mother had complained that the boy only took it off when she forced him to let her wash it.

The result was, in the good doctor's opinion, the early stages of heat exhaustion. She'd led him by the hand into the kitchen and peeled off the oversized red and white shirt. She herself was only wearing a tank top and shorts.

Between the two of them, they got him up onto the counter where she handed him a glass of ice water and told him to drink, citing the exact same reasons Yidhra had just given him. Then she'd gotten another ice cube out of the freezer, brushing it over the boy's sun-reddened face to help cool it down faster.

When she was confident that his temperature had normalized, she used the cube on her own face, not wanting to waste it. She relished in the sensation. Her hand traveled downwards, dragging the ice first along her neck, then over her collarbone, then just a bit lower. She didn't think twice about the teen staring at her with nearly bulging eyes, so in the moment she'd forgotten he was there. So, when a thin sliver was all that was left of the ice, she didn't even hesitate as she popped it into her mouth, letting out a happy sigh as the last of it melted on her tongue.

Ron had hopped off the counter so fast he'd blurred, squeaking out an excuse about mole rat feeding schedules in a cracking voice.

He'd never mentioned that day to anyone, not even Mrs. Dr. P. And now, here he was, watching as gravity took hold on the droplets of water that pooled where the ice was melting against her warm flesh. Watching as the ice circled down and down until it reached the black fabric of her dress' neckline.

This moment of his life, recreated so completely in surreal déjà vu, could only mean one thing as far as Ron was concerned.

_Bad road… Miles and miles of bad road._

WTOS

_Smooth Criminal_

_by Michael Jackson_

_covered by Alien Ant Farm_

_Oye!_

_by Gloria Estefan _


	12. At the Mixer of Madness, Part 3

12. At the Mixer of Madness. Part 3

_How did this happen?_

"And this is us in the Andes… that piece of brown leather in the alpaca's mouth is what's left of Ron's belt."

_How did it come to this?_

"This is us in the Valley of the Kings. The guide told Ron he saw a scorpion on his pants leg and Ron may have freaked just a little."

"Is that why he's in his underwear beating a pair of cargo pants into the sand dune with that shovel?"

"Funny thing, when he was digging them back out, he actually found a secret burial chamber that a team of archaeologists had spent months looking for."

_How did it even enter into the realm of possibility?_

"Here we are inside a tent in Siberia. The zipper got stuck on Ron's sleeping bag, so we shared mine until our ride picked us up."

"Twenty bucks says he's not wearing any pants in this one, either."

"Maxine, you shouldn't assume things like that! Right, Kim? Kim?"

"Well…"

"Pay up, Mala."

"It _so_ wasn't his fault. Nobody could've guessed that Siberian tigers love the scent of naked mole rat. It was either the pants or Rufus. He made the only choice he could."

"And zee only choice that left 'im alone with you in your tent, _sans les pantalons_."

"Be honest, Sugah, how did y'all spend the time while you were waiting on that ride?"

"Hmm… let's just say that lack of body heat was never an issue."

_How the heck does Kim Possible have a __boyfriend__ without the whole world knowing about it!?_

Charles Holder, brother of the ΔIP fraternity, thought back to where exactly everything went wrong for him.

He'd made the perfect approach, the self-effacing knight in shining armor. He'd poured on the charm, kept them all smiling or laughing. He'd followed their conversation at every turn, even throwing in tidbits here and there from those fashion and gossip rags he memorized. He'd used all those pickup lines, the ones that didn't sound like lines at all, that were practically guaranteed to work on those "liberated" neo-feminist chicks.

Then, at what should've been the perfect moment, he went in for the kill. He'd made a commentary about how difficult it must be for her as a public figure, how any relationship she had could never be private with all the tabloid rags hounding her.

There were only so many ways she could've responded to that, he reasoned, and that response was supposed to give him his game plan. He'd had a strategy for "I know, it's just not fair," for "I wish everybody had something better to do than care about my personal life, even for "it doesn't bother me, I don't really have time for a boyfriend, anyway."

What she did next, though, he had no strategy for at all.

She'd smiled, like she had some big secret. Then she'd dug through her purse and to pull out some freaky looking digital wristwatch and, a few button presses later, they were looking at a holographic slide show of scenes from Kim's life, from her missions as well as her private life. One thing the images all had in common, besides the redhead herself, was a scrawny guy with big ears and a mess of blond hair. Average-looking to the extreme, and in some embarrassing position more often than not, he was easily recognized as the one who'd posed with Kim on the cover of that famous issue of _Humans_ magazine a few months back. Charles had even recalled, along with Maxine and Halle, that the blond as her longtime sidekick, even if they couldn't remember his name.

Then, she dropped the metaphoric neutron bomb.

"Ron and I can spend as much time together as we want," she'd said, with that same smile. "They never think twice about it because of Team Possible, and nobody ever suspects that he's really my boyfriend."

Even as she continued her little electronic show and tell session, he'd been entirely lost in his panicked thoughts which, thankfully, he still had the presence of mind to keep from showing on his face. His plans, his entire process, hinged on the fact that she was this unattainable goddess that kept the men around her too intimidated to even think of making a move.

Now this? Sure, he'd stolen a girl or twenty in his time, but those were all from his supposed friends and/or brothers. Those situations where he couldn't prove his absolute superiority, it'd always been easy enough to air some dirty laundry that would drive those scorned and heartbroken girls right into his arms, for comfort or revenge. How was he supposed to one-up or badmouth a guy he'd never met, especially one with the sheer testicular fortitude it had to take to follow a teenage cheerleader around the world to battle psychopaths and natural disasters? Sure she was smoking hot, but no piece of tail was worth that. Still, he'd come this far, and he wasn't about to lose face in his own house. This was now a matter of personal honor.

Meanwhile, Kim was more than a little pleased with herself. Ron knew practically everyone she knew and, until recently, they'd barely ever been apart, so describing their relationship to people who'd never seen it firsthand almost never came up.

It was the sort of thing the other cheerleaders would gossip about in the locker room after practice, and the perpetually boyfriend-less teen heroine would be forced to just sit and listen. Even after she and Ron had started dating, Kim had next to nothing left to say about Ron that they didn't already know from his time as the Middleton Mad Dog. Here, the fact that her longtime partner received so little attention in the press allowed her a captive audience, each one of them eager to know more about the boy that stole the famous Kim Possible's heart.

And, if she happened to say something and the girls drew their own conclusions, it wasn't her fault, right? She knew that the only things besides body heat that she and Ron had shared that time in Siberia were the tent, the sleeping bag, and a few kisses. She also knew that, compared to a lot of young women her age, she wasn't anywhere near as experienced when it came to those kinds of things. Was it so horrible to spend a few seconds basking in the "oohs" and catcalls of her new friends after they made the obvious assumptions?

Besides, it was only a matter of time before she would take her relationship with Ron to the next level, physically. She loved him, and she knew he loved her. It wasn't just natural, it was inevitable. She wouldn't force the issue, of course, she wasn't like that. But Ron was a guy. It was only a matter of time, really.

"Sounds like you two have a lot of history," said Charles, finally recovered from the startling announcement. "In fact, he sounds like prime Delta material. When's he on campus, I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him."

"Oh, he doesn't actually go to school here," Kim explained, somewhat sheepishly. She wasn't ashamed, not at all, but there was always a chance the others would think less of him for it.

"Really?" Charles forced his voice to a semi-neutral disappointment. "That has to be tough for both of you, that kind of distance."

"It's no big," she said, sending a sympathetic glance at her new friend from Mumbai. "Nowhere near as bad as Mala and her… fiancé?"

The other girl nodded, accepting the term.

"Anyway, he still managed to get into an Ivy League university here in Massachusetts," Kim continued. "He's only a few hours away up in Arkham. As soon as one of us gets a line on some reliable transportation, we could totally see each other every night if we wanted. Not that we will, we'll both need plenty of time to study, but it's still nice to know that I can have him here if I need him."

The handsome frat boy nodded, though he was frowning on the inside. He was hoping for a few state lines between him and his current rival, but he'd settle for the small victory. After all, men aren't complicated. Once you let one out of the sight of the woman he's supposed to be with, he'll take whatever action he can get. All Charles had to do was convince the pretty redhead of that, give her some cause to doubt that even _the_ Kim Possible can keep a man faithful when she's not there to watch him.

WTOS

"Uh… Yidhra?"

"Hmm?"

"I might be wrong about this," Ron began, voice shaky. "But I don't think the slow dance falls under the umbrella term of 'just dancing.'"

His lovely dancing partner giggled, both at his turn of phrase and at his nervousness, but the sound of it was slightly muffled as she pressed her lips further into the crook of his neck. She breathed a deep sigh, reveling in the way their bodies fit together perfectly as they swayed to the soft music.

"You are probably right," she murmured sensuously into his skin. "It would be a lie to call this 'just a dance.'"

She pulled back her head, and only her head, to look into his eyes. Sliding one arm from around his shoulder, she tenderly cupped his cheek and traced over the freckles there with the pad of her thumb.

"But even so," she continued huskily. "Would you really want to stop now?"

"Yeah, I think we'd better."

Even as he gently took her hand in his to move it away from his face, he felt something like a chill pass through him when her emerald eyes widened in shock. With his other hand, he disentangled himself from her other arm and took a generous step back.

"Listen, I had a really great time tonight, you're an absolutely badical dancer," he explained, quickly before she could get a word in. "Maybe I'm totally misreading this whole thing… or probably I'm totally misreading it, I don't do well with the subtle signals. All I know is that I've got a girlfriend and, dancing like this with you, it's not fair to either one of you so… what's say we call it a night?"

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. After a long pause, Ron was about to break the silence when corners of her mouth started to twitch. Her hand flew to her mouth just in time to muffle a very un-ladylike snort. She was laughing.

"_Perdóneme_, Ron," she said, through the last of her giggles. "But, to see how nervous I made you was so very cute, I couldn't help but tease you a little."

"You mean, you don't really…?" The Miski man had to scratch his head in confusion.

"I _do_ like you, Ron," insisted Yidhra, gently, as she took a half step in and put her hand on his arm. "Very much. And not only for the way you dance, I know what you did for your friends tonight, and what you've done for the world in the past. I would hope that you like me too."

"I do!" said Ron, nodding frantically, "I really do. If I wasn't already with Kim -"

"But you are," she interrupted, blunt but with a soft smile. "And a few dances with some _chica_ you just met were never going to change that. It's part of what makes you so different from the dirty _Guajiros _I usually find in places like this."

"Different good or different weird?" he asked. "I've heard it both ways."

"Good **and** weird," the pretty girl answered with a laugh. "But don't worry, I _like_ weird."

"R-right…" Ron stammered, his smile slightly forced. "Well, I've had enough fun for one night. I think it's about time for me to be heading back. I'm new in town, so I'll need a big head start to find my dorm before dawn. You understand, right? What am I saying, of course you do, here all the way from Cuba."

"Say _Coo-ba_," Yidhra corrected. "Unless you want to sound like some ignorant _yuma_."

"Yuma, isn't that in Arizona?" he wondered, to her further amusement.

"'_Yuma_… _Gringo_..." she paused, clearly searching for the English word. "It means 'foreigner,' _si_?"

"Yeah, I see," answered Ron, proving his _yuma_-ness again.

"But you would be surprised how well I know my way around," she continued. "I'm practically a native. You should let me show around. Your Kim is invited too, of course."

"That is one absolutely bon-diggety awesome idea." The fact that she'd invited his girlfriend to come along was encouraging. It meant that she really wasn't interested in him that way… or that she was a super villain in disguise and this was all a trap. Either way, familiar territory. "When and where?"

Instead of answering right away, she took a sashaying step back. Ron noticed the music pick up for the first time in a while, though the beat he was hearing wasn't anywhere near as distracting as the beat she was keeping with those hips. Arms drifting slowly and sinuously above her head, she turned her back to him which, incidentally, showed off something more distracting.

"I'll be around," said Yidhra, looking kittenishly over her shoulder. "_Chao_, _mi Cariño_."

And with that, she danced her way back into the surging mass of partiers, where she was swallowed up in seconds. As noticeable as she'd been before, it amazed him that she could disappear so quickly. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. Then again, maybe that was for the best.

_Like the man said, "lead me not into temptation, I can find it just fine on my own."_ Maybe she'd been telling the truth, teasing him because she'd thought it was funny, but that wasn't a chance he felt like taking by hanging around. At least not without girlfriend supervision.

Still, he had to marvel at how mellow she'd been about the whole thing. If she'd been even the slightest bit interested, and he'd have sworn up and down that she was, she might've told him off for leading her on or tried to pressure him into another dance or more. And here she let it be, even offered to help the displaced Coloradoans get the lay of the land.

But then, hadn't almost the exact same thing happened with Yori? There had definitely been attraction there, on both sides, but the lovely ninja girl simply stepped aside with a smile the second Kim entered the picture. Maybe it was him, some kind of calming aura that affected gorgeous, powerful women.

Maybe he just wasn't worth the effort of getting upset.

Shaking his head, Ron pushed his way through the crowd towards one of the bigger exits. It really was time to go home. With any luck, he'd find a cab or a bus line that could get him back to campus. Worst case scenario, he'd just wait outside for one of his teammates to come out and bum a ride from them. Not that something like that was likely to happen anytime soon. The one's that hadn't already left were pretty well occupied with the girls they'd found and probably weren't looking for a third wheel. Of course, he could always play the Designated Driver card. He was less than a dozen feet from the door when a sharp, familiar cry from the other side of the room froze him in place.

"Get your hands off me! You hear me!? _¡No toca nada!_"

Ron spun to see the crowd forming a wide circle around the commotion. There was his former dance partner staring daggers up at a pair of guys who obviously hadn't known when to say "when" the day they were handing out muscles. Even as she backed away, the taller one in a tight, black tank top advanced on her with his intentions clear as day on his face.

"Don't be like that, baby," he said, reaching out to her again. "We just wanna show you a good time. And I promise you'll love every -"

Yidhra knocked his hand away with a slap that echoed through the sudden quiet. The second guy, hair shaved closed to his scalp and wearing a green t-shirt touting some band Ron had never heard of, pushed his friend aside and glared.

"You better show us some respect, you little wetback slut," he spat, getting into her personal space until they were almost nose to nose. "Now, I hope you didn't make any plans for the rest of the night, 'cause you're coming with us. This can go nice, or this can go mean. Take your pick."

She gave no answer. At least none in words.

Fast as a snake striking she spun in place and let the momentum slam her elbow across his face, sending his large body staggering backwards. He clutched at his mouth, seeing blood on his hand when he lifted it away. The thug growled like an animal and charged again, only to miss her completely as she turned a cartwheel around him. He couldn't turn fast enough to stop a low kick to the back of his knee and he was sent crashing to the floor.

Shifting her attentions to the one still standing, Yidhra stomped her foot once and raised her arm in what looked like a "come here" gesture. She didn't stop there, twisting her hips to bring her back foot forward in line with her front foot with another stomp she put her right arm down and brought up her left as she stomped back with her right foot. Back and forth she changed her stance, stamping the hard soles of her platform sandals against the floor whenever she did, tapping out a hypnotic rhythm. Her would-be attacker shook his head as if to clear it before he lunged, only to be met with a vicious rising knee to the chin that seemed to defy gravity. Yidhra went back to her steady cadence, eyes fixed and searching for another opportunity to strike. He was hesitant, but clearly furious that she was fighting back and winning. She seemed surprised to see him smiling a second later.

"Yidhra, look out!" Her head snapped around just in time to see the one who shouted grab her recently recovered first opponent throw him hard into the ground, the top-heavy brute at a severe disadvantage from the flawlessly executed hip toss. Hearing the pounding steps behind her, she dropped immediately into a sweep that took the second's legs right out from under him and left him sprawled in a daze.

"Ron?" she asked, in a quiet, almost timid voice that sounded out of place coming from the confident young girl.

The blond in question stood up from where he'd been taking the downed guy's pulse, brushing the dust off his pants as he got to his feet. He was about to comment on her impressive fight when his smile faded and the words died on his lips.

She looked terrified. Without warning she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his shoulders, sobbing into his chest.

"They wanted to… _Dios mio_... if you hadn't…" She spoke in bursts of English and Spanish, neither of which Ron could understand all that well through her muffled tears. After about a minute, she took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Take me home."

"I, uh, I don't know if I…" His instincts screamed DANGER, though he couldn't even begin to understand why.

"Please?"

"Okay," he said, angry with himself as much for distrusting the poor girl as he was for ignoring his gut. He still managed to give her a comforting smile as he put his jacket around her and led them both outside. _What am I really worried about, anyway? It's not like she wanted to get attacked by those creeps, just so I'd walk her home. Right? Quit over-thinking this, Stoppable! Just get her home and get your butt back to the dorms._

A moment after they were out the door, everyone seemed to remember that they could move and speak again. A few of the men wondered why they hadn't stepped in to break up the fight, a few of the women wondered why they hadn't screamed.

One man, with short-cropped hair and a green t-shirt, wondered what the heck he was doing on the floor.

"Huh… What's going on?" he muttered, groggily. Before he could get up all the way, he found himself smacked back down on his rear. His cheek stung as he looked up into a familiar, and furious, face. "Juanita? Baby?"

"Oh no you didn't just say 'Baby' to me, you lousy, _estupido_ piece of garbage!" she spat, gesturing emphatically with the hand she'd used to slap him. "What, I'm not good enough for you? You gotta kidnap some **other** 'wetback slut,' to get your little rocks off?"

"But… but…" he started scrambling to his feet again, wobbling from pain and stiffness he didn't recognize.

"Two years. **Two years**, I think I know you, and now I think I only just met the real you tonight." She turned on her heel, disdainfully flipping her hair at him before turning to walk away. "We're over. Don't talk to me, don't try to call me, don't come to my house, or I'll let my _Papi_ shoot you and dump your body in the bay like he wanted to the first time I brought you home!"

"Juanita, wait!" he called after her, his progress following her hampered by the crowd that inexplicably hated his guts.

Across the room, a slim man in tight clothes scanned the dance floor, his eyes widening as they stopped on the prone form in the black tank top.

"GLEN!" he shrieked, sprinting over and kneeling down at the man's side to shake him awake.

"Urg… what hit me?" Glen grunted, wincing at the pain.

"Oh my God, what happened to you?" the other fretted, checking frantically for visible injuries. "Was it a hate crime? It was a hate crime, wasn't it? HATE CRIME! Somebody call the police, I need to report a hate crime!"

"Geez, would you calm down, Keith? It wasn't a hate crime… least I don't think it was," he sat up, clutching his aching head.

"All those muscles and I can't even leave you alone for five minutes to use the little boys' room without finding you in a heap on the floor," groused Keith, offering a hand up which was waved off with a crooked smile.

"I thought you liked all these muscles," the larger man pouted, pushing himself to his feet.

"Don't push your luck, honey," he warned, clearly in no mood. "Now come on, we're going home. And, next time you want to take me dancing, we're going where I want to go. Bob and Mark mentioned this new club on the south side, we'll go there."

"Yeah, okay babe," said Glen, following close behind. "Just no more techno junk, okay? That crap gives me a worse headache than I got now."

As all this was going on, few really gave it a second thought, preferring to mind their own business. One person, however, saw the aftermath of the short and very one-sided fight and decided that it was very much her business. After all, Ronald sowing his wild oats with some random girl at a party was no big tragedy. In fact, that kind of behavior in the boy meant that her plans were even more likely to succeed. But, this wasn't just some girl, the overwhelming evidence of mental manipulation proved that. This was another Practitioner and a powerful one at that. No, this would not do.

Feigning tiredness, she told Melanie and Teresa that she'd meet them back at their dorm, much to the disappointment of the guys still waiting to dance with her. To cheer them up, she encouraged her squad mates to stay and console them. They agreed with her suggestion, of course, and neither girl was likely to be in their own beds before morning.

For Marie LaTreau, it suited her just fine. Less for the former Delacroix captain to explain if her "discussion" with little miss Salsa dancer took more time than she expected.

WTOS

It's the duty of a gentleman to squire a lady home at the end of an evening together. It's just the proper thing to do, even if the gentleman in question is a naked mole rat and the lady is a field mouse. It was also pure coincidence that squiring, in this case, looked a whole lot like fleeing a burning building.

It had all been going so well. Rufus and Daisy, enjoyed each other's company as they danced. The moves he'd borrowed from the Oh Boyz had been a big hit among the animals that could move on their hind legs and one particularly brave garter snake that just made the best of what he had to work with. When they finished, Daisy once again played the role of social butterfly, leading her date from one group of critters to the next. She seemed to know everyone to some extent, and they all seemed happy to see her. All in all, it was shaping up to be a great party.

Then, somebody told a joke.

It's not common knowledge, but woodchucks are emotionally sensitive creature, without much of a sense of humor to speak of. So, naturally, an opossum who'd had more than a few too many acorn capfuls of '87 Chateau De Fite, decided to climb up onto the stage, mercifully interrupting the A Cappella Alley Cats' set, and do a little insult comedy. As it turns out, there is an answer to the age old question, how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. Get one mad enough, he can apparently chuck a nine pound wood block, previously in use as a card table, a distance of four feet to impact with the skull of an aspiring marsupial comedian. It was hard to tell how bad he was hurt, considering his species' tendency to play dead.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. The quintet of squirrels were more than a little angry that their card game had been interrupted by a woodchuck using their table as a projectile. The alley cats tried to resume their act but wound up in a heated argument with the Scottish Terrier Dance Troupe, who'd assumed the unconscious opossum meant that it was their turn to perform. Shouting matches turned into shoving matches. Shoving matches grew claws, then teeth. Like a fuse had been lit, the once peaceful corner of the wine cellar exploded into violence.

Rufus, who'd been trying to teach a labor of moles the finer points of relaxation, saw the commotion and rushed in. It took a severe application of monkey kung fu, he'd barely stopped bigger animals from eating smaller ones on four separate occasions, but he was able to get things calmed down. Grudgingly the beasts all sat in front of stage and began to listen to the naked mole rat, heard him squeak passionately about community and brotherhood, of the unity and harmony that could exist between all living things if they only just let it happen. He capped it off by leading them all in a chorus of _All You Need is Love_ which had the whole group singing and swaying with claws, paws, and wings around each other. It was a beautiful thing.

It might've stayed that way too if a pack rat hadn't decided it was a good time to bring out that lighter. Sure, most times it would've been a perfectly acceptable thing to do. But, the fact is, there are two things you tend to find in a wine cellar: wine and wood.

Both things also tend to be very flammable.

They managed to get everybody out, their newfound positive attitudes coming in handy as they avoided trampling the slower animals flat on the way to the exit. It'd been difficult, they'd almost lost one amazingly stupid magpie who'd decided that fire was "shiny" and decided to collect as much as he could to take back to his nest, but everyone was accounted for by the time they heard the first sirens in the distance.

Now, for the second time that night, Rufus followed Daisy along a route only she was familiar with. They hurried, both because of the dangers of being caught out in the open and because they were both anxious to get to sleep after such a busy night. Rufus noticed, as he ran, that the houses on path to the little mouse's home weren't getting any smaller, or cheaper for that matter. If anything, these mansions were even grander than the ones they'd left behind. And still, she seemed to know the area like the back of her paw. Years of listening to Wade, Kim, and, to a much lesser extent, Ron had given Rufus a fairly keen analytical mind and things were starting to add up. It was why he wasn't altogether surprised when Daisy made a quick cut to the left and started scaling the ivy of a high stone wall. He also wasn't surprised when she'd led him up and over the wall to the yard beyond, where she made a beeline for one of the biggest houses Rufus had ever seen that hadn't been built on its own private island.

The Rottweiler was a surprise.

Faster than a canine had any right to be, the descendant of the original automated home security system dashed across the lawn, coming to a stop directly between Rufus and his date. With a roll of his beady black eyes, he sunk into a Tai Sheng Pek Qwar stance and mentally resigned himself to a long fight. He wasn't worried about winning, not at all. Once you've stared down giant mutant wiener dogs, the non-mutated variety never seem to measure up. He was about to let loose with Five Petals of the Lotus Striking when he was forced to abort the move in a way that left him face down with Kentucky Bluegrass wedged between his buckteeth. What he saw that'd made him stop, though, was strange enough that he quickly forgot about the taste of high-end fertilizer

Daisy, one and a half ounces of cute little field mouse, was scolding a one-hundred-ten pound four-legged German killing machine, an animal whose full name of Rottweil Metzgerhund means "Butcher's Dog."

Rufus had never seen a dog look more contrite.

After a surreal apology, "Scruffy" was back on guard duty and the two rodents were moving again until she brought them to stop at the garden trellis. He asked if she'd had a good time, not trusting himself to ask about anything else without completely freaking out. She responded with a squeaky giggle before she leaned up and gave him a long kiss on the nose.

They went their separate ways, her climbing the trellis while he made his way out of the yard with a lot more caution than they'd used getting in. As he looked back at the sprawling manor house where his new friend apparently lived, he had to hope that his humans were having a much less… eventful night than he was.

Knowing them, he wouldn't bet his last naco on that particular hope.

WTOS

"And this… is my room" said Charles as he finished leading his lovely companion down the empty hallway. He threw the door open wide, a clear invitation to enter. "Please sit down anywhere, make yourself comfortable."

Anywhere, in this room, was limited to one desk chair, one king-sized bed, and the floor. She pushed down a wave of uneasiness as she stepped inside. _He's been a perfect gentleman all night, no reason to think he's got any ulterior motives for bringing you up here… except for this totally gorchy feeling in the pit of my stomach._

"I think I'm fine just standing," answered Kim, pleasantly. "Besides, you said this wouldn't take long, right? I _so_ appreciate it, though, letting me see your fraternity's list of professors and classes so I have a better idea what to expect. Is it on your computer there?"

"Yeah… about that list…" the dashing upperclassman said, softly shutting the door behind them. "I'm going to be honest with you. There's not actually a physical _list_ list written down, it's really something that's passed on more through word of mouth. I could get it for you, if you gave me your course information, but it'd take me a few days."

"Okay…" she replied warily. "If there's no list, why did you ask me to come up here?"

"I just wanted to talk, I promise." His hands were up in mock surrender, even as he leaned against the only exit in the room. "I didn't want to say anything in front of the other girls, since it's kind of personal."

"What did you want to talk about?" asked the redhead, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"It's probably none of my business," he paused there until he was sure he'd achieved the dramatic effect. "I can't get over what you said about telling your boyfriend that you were coming here tonight. I mean, when you told Stan -"

"Ron," she corrected, a little snap to her voice.

"'Ron' that this party was going to be at a fraternity, he didn't make any kind of deal about it," Charles continued, unfazed. "What do you suppose something like that means?"

"Well, _I_ think it means my boyfriend trusts me." Kim's icy tone let him know that this was a dangerous direction to take the conversation.

He pressed on anyway.

"Which is great, don't get me wrong… if it's true." He let it hang there, the silence doing its work again to keep her thinking. "Just hear me out, please? I've been in this House a long time. I've seen a lot of guys, guys with girlfriends in other schools, other cities, other states, a few on opposite sides of the globe. And I'm being completely frank when I tell you this: every one of them with that much 'trust' in their girlfriends already had another girl on the side. Every single one."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Kim insisted, surprising herself by sounding more unsure than angry, something that Charles honed in on right away.

"That's just it," he said, diplomatically, "I may not know him personally, but you can't say I don't know the type when I see a dozen guys in his exact situation come through here every year. Get him away from home, all alone, in a town where mothers tell their daughters that landing an Ivy League man is the closest they'll ever get to Prince Charming."

Kim was about to tear into him for doubting her boyfriend, she really was. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, everything he'd just said could've been true, based on his firsthand experience. For all she knew, the guys here did use trust as a euphemism for cheating and the girls throw themselves at any guy in the Ivy League.

Of course, the thought of women throwing themselves at _her_ Miski man wasn't doing all that much to improve her mood. Images of Ron with his hair pasted down by le Goop, covered in gaudy man jewelry he bought with his naco royalties, complimenting girls left and right after getting hit by the Truth Ray all flashed before her eyes. She remembered how much she had to pressure him to tell Yori that they were dating, how little fight he'd put up when Bonnie kissed him during that Homecoming mess. Ron loved her, she didn't doubt that for a second, but could he handle himself against some aggressive football groupie who decided "no" meant "yes?"

"Ron wouldn't do that to me," Kim said, more to herself than to the other occupant of the room. "He _couldn't_ do that to me. You don't know him. It took him more than a decade just to kiss me. I mean we haven't even…"

The now blushing redhead stopped herself before she went any further, but she could tell by the knowing look on his face that Charles had gotten the message anyway. It was mortifying, letting something so private and personal slip out like that, not to mention that he'd just caught her in her earlier fib about that night in Siberia.

Meanwhile, across the room, Charles was in the throes of a dilemma. On the one hand, he'd already accomplished what he'd set out to do. She was doubting herself, her precious high school sweetheart, and her faith in long-distance relationships in general. All he had to do was escort her back down to the party like the nice guy he'd made himself out to be and the foundations would be laid. And then in four to six weeks, barring any unforeseen complications, so would he.

On the other hand, all it'd take was Mr. No-Pants manning up once or twice and this particular prize would be out of his reach permanently. He'd been watching her all night and what he saw made him give some credence to the rumors that the famous Kim Possible was nothing more than one giant publicity stunt. The girl in front of him, blushing for what had to be the fiftieth time that night at the slightest mention of sex, couldn't possibly had done all those death-defying things the media claimed she's done. Right?

No, if he was reading her right, and he'd never admitted to being wrong before, there was a way for him to make this happen tonight. This plan was what you'd call a high risk, high reward. If it failed, there was no recovery without getting her very, **very **drunk. But, if it worked… He'd promised Brent that he was going to make Kim Possible take the walk of shame through Delta house, wearing last night's dress or one of his shirts, lady's choice. How much more satisfying would it be knowing it only took him one night?

Oh yeah.

"You know, you're probably right," said Charles, his voice barely changed but fundamentally different, darker. "Men cheat, fundamental truth. They say Ogden Nash woke up in the middle of the night and was so moved by a revelation that'd come to him in his dreams that he wrote it down immediately so it wouldn't be lost to history. When he got out of bed the next morning to read what he'd written, there were two lines on the page: Hogamus, higamus, Men are polygamous; Higamus, hogamus, Women, monogamous. Stupid, yes. But true. So, when I say that I don't think your boyfriend's going to cheat on you, what I'm really saying… is that he's not a man."

"He's not a -" she started to echo, but he didn't let her finish.

"Correct. A man wouldn't wait ten years to kiss you, if he wanted to kiss you. Granted, you were probably both so young, you had too much history by the time it might've felt right, but then that's not the only area where he's experienced failure to launch, is it?

"The fact of the matter is that 'waiting 'til you're both ready' is a myth. It's a myth told to little girls by their mommies and daddies, mostly daddy, because nobody wants to think of their daughter as being easy. So, you believe the myth, until you meet a man and _he __**tells **__you_ that you're ready. He becomes new daddy, new daddy overrules old daddy, and you do what he wants. After that, well, he either stays or you wait for another man to come along and tell you what you need to hear.

"So, the way I see it, I can let you keep fooling yourself with a boy that doesn't know how to handle a woman, or I can step in and do what you want me to do anyway."

He'd made the right decision, that much was obvious as he closed the distance between them. She was staring at her feet, bright red blush, her breathing was irregular, and she was trembling. Trembling! A few more words to seal the deal, that's all it was going to take.

"I think you know what's going to happen," he whispered hand coming up under her chin. "And I guarantee you'll remember it for the rest of your life."

A little pressure turned her eyes up to meet his and… Uh-oh.

"Oh, I know one of us will."

Savannah, downstairs with the other ladies, was scanning the crowd for any sign of her roommate. She'd felt absolutely ridiculous, losing track of her like that when they'd gone as a group to visit the restroom. Something else she noticed right away was that their gracious host Mr. Holder was missing, too. Vannah didn't want to think the worst of her new friend, and she didn't seem like the type at all, but she wasn't naïve enough to dismiss the possibility.

Especially not with a startling piece of evidence walking down the stairs…

Arm in arm.

They stopped on the landing, Kim on Charles' right and just a bit behind, both of them with big smiles. For some reason, though, the smile that ΔIP man wore was looked a little strained. Seconds passed with them just standing there, though you could tell by the movements of their lips that they were whispering through their grinning teeth. Finally, the young gentleman gave an almost invisible twitch before speaking in a loud voice.

"Brothers and guests! I have an announcement to make. A, uh… a very important announcement. Some of you know me, some of you I've just met, and some of you I…"

Here, he turned his head sharply in Kim's direction, smile fading almost completely to a look of pathetic pleading. She wasn't much of a lip reader, but she thought she could make out the words "please be reasonable" before his whole body seemed to spasm. Clearing his throat, he started again.

"I just wanted to tell you that I am…" He was visibly sweating now, he wiped his forehead and upper lip with his free left hand. "That I… I aa-AAAH! That I'm a liar, I'm a LIAR!"

The crowd barely had time to gasp before he went on, talking a mile a minute.

"I, Charles 'Chuck' Holder, will say anything to a woman if I think it'll get her to sleep with me. I'll pretend to be a nice guy, I pretend to care about what they think, but all I really care about is getting them in bed. The only time I tell the truth is when I have dirt on them or their boyfriends that I can use to get them to have sleep with me, and I'll lie about that, too. I have to sleep with as many different women as I can, because…"

Another pleading look to Kim, who just smiled wider. This time, Savannah could see some movement in her roommate's arm just before Charles let out a pained grunt.

"Because…" Kim prompted, eyes narrowing even as she smiled. "Come on, Chuck. You were so on a roll there."

"Because I…" he bit out through grit teeth. "Because I can't deal with the possibility that I might be aroused by the thought that I'm living in a house filled with nothing but guys!"

Dozens of people choked on drinks, others sprayed them out like fire hoses onto the people in front of them. And a few laughed. Oh, did they laugh.

Kim, meanwhile, turned and grabbed frat boy by the collar using the hand she didn't have wrenched up behind his back. One move, almost too fast to see, and he was flying through the air to land with a crash on a pile of plastic bags, ones that happened to be holding the garbage they'd accumulated during the night.

"Great speech, Chuck," she said, clapping her hands together as if to shake the dust from them. "Really, it takes a lot of courage to admit something like that in front of all these people. I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that I don't want you near me or any of my friends. Ever again. And, if you don't feel like staying away, I can burn through a few of my favors to make sure that everybody in the Western hemisphere knows exactly what kind of slime you are. Remember, call me, beep me, you'll regret it immediately."

Turning her back with a dismissive wave, the former teen hero unhurriedly made her way over to her new circle of friends. They were stunned, for a moment there were no words. It was Halle, unsurprisingly that broke the silence.

"His speech was good," she allowed, grudgingly. "Yours was better."

"Really? I was worried that part at the end was too much," said Kim. "I came up with it on the way down the stairs."

"Sugah," Savannah put a hand on her roommate's shoulder and smiled. "If Lincoln could've made a speech like that when he was running for president, he might've lived to see the end of 'Our American Cousin' that night at the theater."

WTOS

_I gotta say, I didn't see my evening ending like this._

Ron Stoppable was never much for advanced planning, always being more of a "go with the flow and see where it takes you" guy. Nothing in his life that he considered to be good had come as the result of a lot of thinking.

Playing with a little redheaded girl in pre-kindergarten instead of with the other boys, buying a naked mole rat from Smarty Mart without knowing the first thing about it, opening a taco and filling it with nachos, jumping into the middle of beams of light being shot out of monkey statues, admitting his feelings to his best friend while they were both tied to giant fake cacti, applying to every college on the face of the Earth, these actions had been the result of literally seconds of forethought.

So, when he saw that goon try to get Yidhra from behind, he didn't think. He acted. Even now, he didn't regret doing it. Really.

He just wished she wouldn't keep looking at him that way.

That look, one Ron had seen plenty of times, but only a handful had ever been directed at him. By the cheerleaders at Wannaweep, or little Joss right before they left the Lazy C Ranch, and he'd seen the look on Yori's face more than once. But it was only after that insanity with the Yono that he'd gotten it from the one person he'd always wanted it from. The way Kim had looked at him after the fight, the gratitude mixed with just a little bit of awe. Now, as he walked along the unfamiliar streets, another pair of eyes that were just as green kept sneaking that exact same look. It was a look that communicated just two words: My hero.

They'd been walking in near silence for the last ten minutes or so, only broken by the occasional instruction to turn or promise that it wouldn't be much farther. It wasn't exactly what Ron would call an upscale neighborhood, every third building or so was boarded up and the ones with someone living there all had bars on their ground floor windows. The last street she led him down ended in front of an old redbrick building, fenced in by a rusty wrought iron gate and flanked by evergreen trees.

It was in front of this gate that Yidhra stopped and turned to him. She kept her eyes hidden under her full lashes as she shrugged the borrowed white coat off her shoulders and gently draped it over his. When she had her hands by his neck, seemingly to fix his collar, her gaze locked with his and she reached up to cup his face.

"Would you like to come in?" The sheer amount of hopefulness in her voice was killing him. "It's late and you don't know your way around. I could call for a taxi."

"A-actually, I thought I'd walk," Ron stammered, exaggeratedly pulling his coat back on all the way to give him an excuse to step out of reach. "Yep, sure is a nice night for walking!"

"I'm trying to thank you," she insisted, thankfully not stepping back into his personal space. "If you hadn't been there tonight…"

"But you don't have to thank me, 'cause you could'a handled those guys on your own if you had to, with those awesome moves! That… that…with the stomping… and the spinny elbows…" He struggled to identify her unique fighting style until she finally took pity on him.

"They call it Mani, it comes from the African slaves they brought to Cuba. Capoeira started very much the same way, even if they waste a lot of their energy on pretty acrobatics. Old Juan de Dios wasn't happy to have to teach a _chica_ his style but, lucky for me, he lost a bet." Yidhra shot him a wide, conspiratorial smile and inched forward, hands coyly behind her back. "I could teach you, _si_? The way you dance, you could be the best there ever was."

"Yeah well…" drawled Ron, blushing at the praise before the situation came screeching back to the forefront. "Hey, you know who's also good at the fighting? My girlfriend. You remember my girlfriend, right? Kim Possible, famous crime fighter, saved the world a bunch, mastered 16 styles of Kung Fu before the 10th grade, history of overreacting when she gets jealous, I'm sure I mentioned her before."

"You did." Her smile lost most of its intensity, but didn't go away completely. "And, before, I was willing to accept that. But then you saved me. And I knew I could not let you go so easily, _Cariño_."

"Yidhra, this is wrong on so many levels," he said, trying to make her see reason. "I mean, what those guys wanted to do, I don't know how you could even be thinking about this!"

"What those _cabronazos_ wanted to do to me was never about sex," she calmly explained, smirking when she made him blush even more. "It was about taking power away from me so they could feel big and strong. Is it so strange that I would want to be with someone who reminds me that not all men are pigs? I believe it was Destiny that brought us together, Ron. We could have gone our whole lives without ever meeting, but here we are. Don't you think there must be some reason?"

"I don't know, the odds can't be _that_ slim, right? Getting into an Ivy League school after every other school on the planet rejects me, landing a spot on the football team even with the other guys after my head, Kim making plans that don't include me, and me out looking for a good time for my roommate that leads to going out with the team to the same party that you just happen to be at… the chances of that can't be less than one in… one in… I should know this, my dad's an actuary!"

"Never tell me the odds, _Cariño_," she said with a laugh. "Or are you trying to convince yourself? Perhaps we test this. If you can look me in my eyes and tell me you're not attracted to me, I'll know that I was wrong and we'll never speak of this again."

And there it was, his way out. Sure, she probably wouldn't be happy with it, but it'd be the best thing in the long run. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, looked straight at her, and then he spoke.

"I'm not attracted to you, Yidhra."

_There, now that that's over, I can_-

"Those are not my eyes, Ron," she said, tilting his chin up with a red manicured fingernail so that he could see her satisfied smile. "But I appreciate the compliment. Also, I thank you for proving my point for me."

_Eyes! I was supposed to be looking at her __**eyes**__when I said it! How could I overlook that? She must've distracted me! Her and those big, soft, round… Grrr, head in the game, Ron! And not __**that**__ head, that head stays completely out of the game!_ Ron continued mentally berating himself, furious that he was letting her affect him this much.

"Now, I'll give you one more chance," the sultry girl continued, lightly tickling the sensitive underside of his jaw with her fingertips. "I'll let you go back to your Kim, never bother you with my affections again, if you can pass one little test to prove that you'd rather stay true to her?"

"O-okay," he said, licking his suddenly dry lips. "What's the test?"

"Kiss me, _Cariño_," she whispered, eyes smoldering like green fire. "Just a kiss and, if you don't want any more, we can move on with our lives knowing that it was not meant to be. And if you do want more…"

"I can't." He tried to pull back but his feet were lead on the sidewalk. "I can't, I can't do it… I can't…"

"Oh?" asked the still-smiling temptress. "So afraid of a kiss, do you really love her so little that one kiss could steal you away from her forever?"

There was a logic to her words that he thought he could dispute, if only he could form a coherent thought. He felt so weighed down by his own skin that he could only watched as her face inched closer and closer. _One kiss_, some traitorous part of his brain argued. _I could handle one kiss from Bonnie Rockwaller, why couldn't I handle one now?_ But he knew in his heart that this would be different. Her eyes slid closed as she neared her destination, hiding those emerald orbs that'd captured him from across that crowded room. Not because they were beautiful, though they were that.

No, because they were like hers.

Hers…

"**I CAN'T DO IT!**" he shouted, startling both her and himself as he jumped backwards. "I can't do it and I'm sorry but I can't because I can't do that to Kim even if it's just one kiss because I love her and it'd hurt her and I'd know even if she never found out and it would just hang there between us for the rest of our lives because I'd know about it and I couldn't live like that so I can't do it and I gotta go so bye!"

And then, after completing one of the world's longest run-on sentences, Ron Stoppable did the one thing that'd saved his life more times than any spy gadget, fancy kung fu move, or magical simian power combined. He ran like a scared rabbit.

Yidhra stood there blinking for a long second, completely in shock. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, never. Snapping out of it, she called out after him and started to jog after him. She barely got ten feet before she stopped short near the mouth of an alley, an alley that four shadowy figures had just walked out from. Cautiously, she took a step back, something that started them walking forward in heavy, plodding steps that forced her to back away even more. Their features were revealed as they passed under a streetlight. Ashen grey skin seemed tightly stretched over bones. Their eyes were white with cataracts, seemingly sightless even as they traced her every move. The clothes they wore had obviously seen better days, probably even the highest fashions… when they'd been buried.

She turned and broke into a run, throwing open the gate and dashing across the lawn where her pursuers followed at unreal speeds. Just as she opened the front door, the reanimated corpse closest to her reached out a skeletal hand to clutch at her dress, hoping to pull her back into the night.

It never registered the pain as the hand, as well as the entire arm, were ripped away from its body. A vicious kick launched the undead thing backwards into the others, sending them tumbling over the grass. The one that did it leaped from the front porch, landing heavily in front of them and kicking up a cloud of dust. Covered head to foot in a ratty black cloak, the figure looked about as wide as a church door with powerful muscles knotting under the fabric. Two more cloaks shot the building, one thin where the first had been thick and seemed to glide when it moved. The third stayed low to the ground, going on all fours and leaving great gashes in the lawn as it ran over.

The zombies picked themselves up, not able to show any fear or confusion in the face of the new arrivals. Their creator had ordered that the woman be dealt with permanently; they couldn't do anything but obey. As one, they started for the door again. The sleeve of the largest cloak shot forward and revealed, not a hand, but a tentacle covered in barbed claws. It wrapped itself around the lead cadaver's chest and constricted, simultaneously crushing and shredding the unfeeling corpse. The next one tried to rush past the lankier figure, only to slow down. Three diagonal cuts appeared across the once-fine suit it wore, neck to shoulder, shoulder to hip, and hip to knee. The body fell to pieces before it could take another step. The last two could barely move before the last cloak pounced on them, a furious thrashing under the dark cloth being the only warning before torn limbs and other extremities started flying out from underneath it.

When it was all over, the three figures noiselessly stood on the grass, sentries watching for more attackers. Familiar laughter rang out behind them, the wonderful sound piercing the heavy fabric of the coverings they wore. They turned together to face her, Yidhra, as she practically skipped towards them without an ounce of fear. One by one, she gave them her thanks, whispering sweet and soothing words while she tenderly caressed them through their cloaks.

"Are ya alright, me dear heart?" a weathered but pleasant voice called out from the doorway.

Yidhra turned and walked back towards the house, the shrouded guardians following at her heels like they were affectionate puppies. She smiled warmly when she took in the sight of the man at the door. Older, but distinguished, with a muscular frame and a full beard streaked with silver. A black wool stocking cap was pulled down on his head, over his ears.

"No, Quinn," she replied, taking his offered arm as he led them all back into the house and shut the door behind them. "Alright is not what I am at the moment. If you can believe it, I think I may actually be surprised."

Even as she spoke, a slow change seemed to be taking place. Her body seemed to stretch, growing taller until it was only a few inches shorter than the man escorting her. Black hair seemed to brighten into warm brown, and changed from wavy to bone straight. Her face, though it stayed just as beautiful, shifted. The eyes that danced with a thousand different thoughts were now a dark blue, nearly black, like the sea at night. Even her accent, which had started out Cuban had slowly twisted to match the Irish brogue of her companion.

"That _is_ hard to believe," Quinn said, bringing them to a stop in a plush sitting room, where the fine art and rich furniture would shock anyone who'd seen the building's dull exterior. "If there's anyone in this world who's seen it all, it'd be you."

"Well, sure'n I'll admit I should've seen this comin'," she said, taking a seat on the largest chair while he stood beside it. "It's all clear now 'o course. The illustrious Kim Possible, everybody's sweetheart, she is. How else could a wee slip of a girl do all those amazin' things all over creation? What else could she be, but a witch? Never would'a pegged such a wholesome lookin' lass for a necromancer, though. Still, I'd wager she'd use any trick to keep her hooks in my Ronald."

"You want me to send the lads out to fetch him?" asked the older gent, eager to do anything to improve her mood. "I doubt if he's gotten all that far."

"You'd better not," she answered, sweetly to let him know she wasn't upset with his suggestion. "The poor dear's so addled by her craft that he won't know friend from foe. No, I'll have to trace the magic to its source, break it there. That little tart'll soon learn I'm not called the Dream-Witch for nothin'."

She stopped then and laughed, earning a raised eyebrow from Quinn.

"I'm sorry, but you have to admit it's funny when you think about it," continued Yidhra, still snickering a bit. "The thought of me rescuing a man from some wicked enchantress?

"Truly, I don't think it's out of character for ya at all, me dear heart," he said, solemnly. "You rescued all of us, one way or another. From loneliness, from heartache, even from the very jaws death. You'll save him and he'll love you for it, just as we all do."

Smiling fondly at him, she took his hand and kissed it. Quinn relished in the affection, hoping desperately that it would progress from there. He knew it would happen someday, that she would find another and he'd no longer be the youngest of her lovers. No more the favorite. He couldn't even bring himself to be happy that his replacement was playing hard to get, knowing that she wouldn't be happy until she caught him.

Her joy was his rapture, her pain his agony. She was his entire life, and had been longer than anyone could have guessed.

Soon, this 'Ronald' would know what it meant to be loved by a goddess.

Lucky bastard.

WTOS

"Ron… you have returned."

And returned he had, walking through the door of their dorm room with a noticeable drag to his steps. It hadn't been an easy trip home, working from fairly vague memories of the trip over. He'd been forced to take to the rooftops to avoid the seedier elements of the city after dark. Thankfully, Wade had tricked out his dinner jacket for that kind of ninja travel, making the coat fully reversible with non-reflective black for the lining and a mask and cowl that unzipped out of the collar. He'd made great time thanks to that little fashion accessory and a few boots of mystical monkey power. Now, the jacket was right-side out and the wearer was dog tired, but he still felt awake enough to answer his roommate.

"Do you have to sound so surprised, Mac?" he asked rubbing his face sleepily. "If I didn't know any better, a guy might get the feeling he's not wanted."

"That wasn't the cause for my surprise," Ian MacKarish explained, in the understated manner Ron had come to expect. "When she had taken such an obvious interest in you, I assumed that -"

"Not you too!" he groused, cutting Mac off. "Look, nothing happened. I just danced with her a little, there was a quick fight with some jerks at the party, then I walked her home. That's it. I mean don't get me wrong, Yidhra's hot on a scale they normally reserve for supernova's but the Ronster is a one-woman man!"

"She…" this shock was about ten times greater than what'd met him at the door. "She told you her name? And you refused her?"

"Well yeah, I refused her, you know I have a girlfriend already! And what's her name got to do with anything?"

Mac stared at him, as if for the first time. It was weird and vaguely creepy enough that it reminded Ron that he was too exhausted to deal with his new friend's quirks for too much longer. His roommate, on the other hand, was drastically reconsidering his first impression of the easily excited blond.

"You are… a singular person, Ron Stoppable," he said, what little warmth and sincerity he possessed going into his voice.

"Uh-huh, I'm just the one person, Mac," replied Ron slowly, like he was speaking to a small child or a senior with dementia. _What does he think I'm two short guys in a Ron suit? _"G'night."

He didn't wait for a response, just turned and headed for his room. His clothes were peeled from his body as he walked, leaving a trail through the shared living area and into his room. Rufus was there, and he couldn't blame the little guy for not waiting up for him. The story of where his buddy had gone would have to wait 'til morning. He didn't bother with his pajamas, just crawled into bed in his boxer shorts. The pillow had barely taken the imprint of his head when sound made him sit straight up.

_Beep-beep bebeeb_

Groaning, he flung himself over the edge of the bed and groped around for his pants. Reaching into the pocket that held his cell phone-slash-communicator, he sat up again hit the "accept" button, hoping the world wasn't planning on ending before he got his recommended eight hours. When the screen lit up, it wasn't Wade's or Kim's face he saw.

"Whoa, I think I got it working!" the mystery caller yelled off screen.

"Max! Give me that!" shouted a thankfully more familiar voice.

"Kim?" he said, a second before the picture shook and he could see his girlfriend, as well as a bunch of other gorgeous college-age girls.

"Ron, I'm so sorry!" she apologized, seeing the state her BFBF was in. "Did we wake you?"

"So, this is the famous Ron?" remarked a blonde seated next to Kim. "Well, he _is_ cute, in his own way."

"He's hot!" slurred a dark-skinned girl sitting one away from her. "C'mere, I wanna feel those ears!"

"Mala, stop trying to grope my boyfriend's hologram!" Kim scolded before turning back to Ron. "Sorry, again. She's not usually like this, she just got a little carried away celebrating… um…"

"Celebrating what?" Ron asked, curious at her sudden silence.

"Celebrating our Kim's _triomphe_!" the blonde with darker hair, sitting at the far end, said as she raised her hand like she was giving a toast.

"Yeah, triumph over some idiot frat boy," continued an asian girl seated at Kim's other side. "You should've seen her she -"

"Will tell you all about it _later_, okay?" Kim cut the other girl off, then turned her attention back to her Kimmunicator. "It was no big, I swear. We can talk about it when we get together tomorrow. We are still planning on going out, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," Ron agreed, hoping he would remember this conversation in the morning.

She made the obligatory introductions, all the girls made some flirtatious comment or another, most of them involving dropped pants and, oddly, Siberia. The one called Mala tried to tongue kiss his hologram and he heard her hit her nose on the divider window of the limo they were sharing. It was a testament to the class of friend that Kim was making that they'd pick that over a taxi when they needed a designated driver, even if there were six of them. Ron was almost dozing when the girls were talking amongst themselves about where the two of them should go on their date the next day. By the time he was able to follow the conversation again, he realized he'd been given options.

"So, what do you think?" asked Kim. "The mall, the Italian restaurant, or the salsa club?"

"What do I think?" he said then, before he even realized what he was saying, he gave her his answer.

"I say, _mi salsa es caliente_."

WTOS

Guest Author's Note:

And so, the third and final installment of "At the Mixer of Madness" sees the light of day. Brothers and Sisters, I can only hope you'll forgive me for the delays on this and the other two chapters I've written for my brilliant colleague's story. Ever since I was made Dean of Cat Herding at good old Miskatonic U, I've been beating my brains over how to deal with this particular section of the story. The original idea was mine, based off one of the Elder Gods mentioned in the Necronomicon (should be fairly obvious who it is), and Mr. Wizard liked my pitch so much that he suggested I write it. This led to several concerns, the worst of which was my fear of ruining a great story. I tried my best to keep the feel of the story, and its Lovecraftian roots, as well as listen to the critiques I was getting from you, the readers. A lot of you wanted more of an "earned" T-rating and I think I've done that. Unfortunately, I may have alienated some of you (including MrDrP, a writer I deeply respect) with my more explicit-oriented themes. Through it all, I tried to stay true to the characters, and where the characters were likely to be in this stage of their maturity.

If you have any praise, please leave a review. Any complaints should be sent to me via PM, considering that anything that you don't like about the last three chapters has been primarily my fault.

Blessed be,

-Brother Bludgeon


	13. First Evaluation

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

My thanks to the reviewers: Katsumara, CajunBear73, MrDrP, Mack53B, Isamu, aedan cameron, screaming phoenix, airwalker999, BlueEyedBrigadier, Shrike176, King in Yellow, Michael Howard, whitem, Jackinbandw, bigherb81 and all the other partiers.

Extra special thanks to my Dean of Cat Herding, Brother Bludgeon, for his fantastic work on the last three chapters. They were cosmic.

12. First Evaluation

Rufus did not stir when Ron woke up the next morning. The Metro for Cambridge would be leaving at 12:15. It was 10:05, plenty of time to get ready. But first things first; it was time to feed the inner Ron.

"Ah, you're up." Mac entered the room already dressed.

"Yep. There's a girl in Cambridge calling my name. Gotta get ready."

"But I thought the knowledge of one's name was not sufficiently powerf-…" The pale boy shook his head. "Sorry, I'm a little out of sorts. Perhaps some breakfast before you go? I would like to talk some about your experience last night."

"Sure, dude. Just let me get cleaned up." A quick shower, change and some fingers through his hair later and Ron was ready. "Hey, Rufus old buddy, breakfast?"

The naked mole rat stirred under his covers. "Go 'way. *hic*!"

"Suit yourself. Let's go, Mac." Someone was waiting for them in the hallway.

"Hey there, Ron." Stanley Klinger smiled, looking fully alert, which belied his night owl reputation. "Heard you were out cutting the rug last night."

"Actually, his dancing was quite adequate. No floor coverings were damaged." Mac replied; his observation drawing stares from both fellow student and RA. "Could you excuse me a moment, Ron? I need to go down to the lobby and withdraw some funds."

Ron and Stanley watched Mac go down the stairs. After he left Stanley shrugged. "There's a guy with a few of his spark plugs disconnected."

"He's a good guy." Ron countered. "He just needs a little push to get him off the wall."

"Uh, Ron, can I talk to you for a minute?" Stanley shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. "You have a real winner of a girl in Kim."

Any compliment to Kim could bring a smile to Ron's face, even when he was dead on his feet. "Don't I know it! My KP's one bon-diggity girl."

"Yes, yes, a great gal." Stanley agreed quickly. "But you need to understand, not every girl you meet is like Kim. Some are, well, let's just say they aren't exactly what they appear to be."

"Don't worry, RA, the Ronman won't stray."

"Good to hear." Stanley put a cold, slightly damp hand on Ron's shoulder. "Just see that you don't. Now, I've been out too much tonight. Good night."

Breakfast was slightly hurried as Ron did not want to miss his train. He had to tear himself away from Mac and his endless questions. They ranged in topics from the dance to his childhood, to the missions in his teen years, to his best estimate of how many severe head traumas he had suffered, to any history of mental illness in his family. _I've had GJ debriefings that were less invasive._

"Time to go, Rufus." Ron stepped into his room and flipped on the light. There was a stirring in the pile of bedding in the glass cage.

"Hink, out!"

"Rufus?" Ron gazed in shock at his pet's bloodshot eyes and bleary expression. Before he could say anything else, Rufus had burrowed back under his bedding. A moment later the bedding was flung aside and the rodent ran to a corner and threw up. Ron cleaned the cage.

"Oh, dude! I'll call Kim! We'll get you to the vet…a vet…"

Ron's concern drew a glare from the rodent. Rufus pulled the covers over his head. "Hink! No noise!"

"You sure that's what you want?" When the bedding nodded Ron picked up the Kimmunicator.

"Hey, KP. Slight change in plans, it'll be just us today."

WTOS

The Metro from Arkham to Cambridge took no time. At the change over Ron bought a Charlie Card to use on the Red Line. _I'm going to be coming here a lot, might as well get the discount. _ The car contained an assortment of students, a family going to Gran's and a family of Japanese tourists. He blinked from a nearby camera flash. The cameraman fumbled for words.

"I a-pol-o…"

"Daijoubu." Ron smiled.

"Ee! Nihongo ga wakarimasu yo!" The man gushed. His three companions all smiled and bowed slightly to Ron.

Ron returned the bow. "Domo, dudes. I know a little Japanese. I've been there a few times for school."

"And what did you study?" asked a petite young woman.

"A little of this, a little of that. You know…stuff." Ron rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously.

The older gentleman smiled. "I see. Some of our more eccentric schools can be quite secretive regarding 'stuff'. We shall ask no more questions."

"Except for one." The cameraman cut in. "Can you tell us when we reach Cambridge Station? We plan to see Harvard today. I read English…"

The mother joined the conversation. "But he gets confused. We took the wrong station yesterday. Instead of Miskatonic University we arrived at the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The staff was polite and helpful if not friendly."

Misdirection was something Ron could empathize with. "Sure! We're getting off at the same stop." The train slowed. "And here we are. After you."

The four stood and bowed again. "Thank you, S-sir." The old man hid an expression of exasperation at himself. "We are the Chiba family from Iwate Prefecture. I am Isamu; this is my wife Hutara, our son Hayato and our daughter Chiyoko. It has been a pleasure meeting you."

"Please, call me Ron, Ron Stoppable. And it was a pleasure meeting you." Ron watched them exit the car. The next sight made his heart flip.

Kim stood smiling on the platform. She wore a Crimson Cheer Squad t-shirt and her capris. She was a welcome sight after a long week.

The sight behind her was a tad more confusing. Five young women were lined up like an honor guard or a reception committee. Curiosity vanished when lips locked. Kim wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her lift a foot off the ground. Her eyes glowed when she opened them.

"Welcome to Harvard, Miski Man."

"Abooyah." He said dazedly.

"Are you sure Rufus will be okay?" Kim's concern was not feigned. After all, he was family to Ron and a lot closer to her than she sometimes realized.

"He just needs to sleep it off. Uh, KP, who's behind us?"

"Oh, these girls?" Kim motioned at the blond. "This is my roommate Savannah Venable, of the Atlanta Venables. And this is Maxine Abel-Enchom, or Max of Long Island, and Malati Pratigya from Lucknow and Maine."

"I recognize you." Ron volunteered.

"Sorry." The lovely dark woman said quietly.

Kim smiled at Mala's apology. "Beside her is Laurette Closieur, Lor, from Cannes and Bai Huiliang from San Diego. They're the Honeys, though I think of them as Ms. Lavater's Irregulars."

"How irregular?"

"Very." Kim replied wryly. "Ladies, this is Ron Stoppable."

"Ladies." Ron grinned.

Savannah snapped to like a Sergeant Major of the RMC. "Boyfriend inspection!"

The five girls stepped forward. Kim took a step back and practiced her self restraint. One thing she had hoped had been left behind in High School was the food chain. Had she known the Honey's intentions, she might have arranged to meet Ron alone.

Savannah went first. "The pictures don't do you justice. I love the freckles; they give you a Huck Finn quality." She put her hands on his cheeks and smiled at Kim. "As my grand mother the Countess would say…he's marvy!"

Max was next. "I've heard about your Father. And you've already made one fortune, even if you lost it. You might go places on your own. It's good to find a man able to keep up with you."

Lor titled her richly tanned face. She laid a finger against her jaw as she thought. "Promise. 'e 'as promise. Maybe a 'aircut and new wardrobe…"

Kim nixed that immediately. "Been there, done that, almost ended with a body count."

Mala rubbed her temples. "He's quiet. That's good."

The future defense attorney was last. Dark eyes locked into chocolate ones for a full minute. "There is some intelligence in there. Anyone who 'loses' his pants that often can't be a total buffoon."

Savannah took over. "Honeys, fall in! Evaluation time." Five sets of lips puckered for an elongated wolf whistle.

"Is that good?" Ron asked Kim.

Savannah gave a winning smile. "Why, Sugah, you're just short of larcenous! Definitely worth a rebound if Kimmie here ever drops you."

The boy's face lit up. "You hear that, Kim? Rebound girls, I've got rebound girls!" The glare from Kim's jealin' face brought him up short. "But who needs them when you're my girl."

"Nice recovery." Kim took his arm and pulled him back to her. The Honeys gave a sigh of mock(?) disappointment. "But you still must be punished. To Harvard Square. Girls, we're going shopping!"

WTOS

Shopping at Cambridge did not mean a mall; it meant Harvard Square. Ron's punishment consisted of a very long walk with even longer stops. Berk's Stores had every shoe imaginable in size for even the most finicky foot. And you must have new clothes for new shoes. Ron found himself carrying bags from Clothwear, Hootenanny and Mint Julep. (The last was at Savannah's insistence. "I love the name, but Big Daddy let me have a sip of one at Churchill Downs this year, it's a waste of good bourbon.")

He had more fun at Boston Coasters, finding a new food dish for Rufus, adorned with a picture of the Old North Church. Mindful of her budget, Kim only bought one pair of shoes, a green blouse and a t-shirt at the Harvard Shop for Ron. It bore her picture and the words. **She's not just a Crimson, she's smart enough to date me. **Even Bai's reflexive feminism faded before Ron's expression of appreciation.

For once Kim was the one recovering from the kiss. "You can thank me again later."

Max leaned over to whisper in Mala's ear. "Dibs on the rebound."

"Kim, Ron, Honeys," Savannah clapped for their attention. "Our guest chose this evening's activity: a visit to El Diablo Pequeno, but it takes energy to dance the night away. We have reservations at Rialto's in fifteen minutes."

"But how will we get our stuff back to the dorms?" Kim started to look around. _If I can find a rotary phone, a Bremmel and a Lite Brite…_

The belle had an answer. "Don't worry, Sugah, I have people, well, boys to be exact." She pulled out her phone and touched a button. Five boys whose faces Kim recognized from the previous night came into the shop and took the bags.

Bai smirked. "Most people control dumb animals with a whip. Savannah just bats her eyes."

WTOS

Rialto's was casual dress, but the Honeys, as Kim would have said, were on it. One boy produced a bag containing clothes complementing the girls' recent purchases. Her new shoes and blouse gave new life to a skirt Kim had almost left at home. For Ron, Savannah had found a Miskatonic blazer old enough to come across as charmingly retro.

Not surprisingly for the world famous Kim Possible, the chef came by during the first course. "I hope everything is fine here."

Her question drew the usual polite responses until she reached Ron. The boy had been eating like it was his job. He looked up from his plate and swallowed. "This is great! Rufus would go nuts over the cheese."

"Rufus?" the chef tilted her head. "Of course, the third member of Team Possible. I'm glad you're enjoying it, Ron."

"You recognize Ron?" Kim was pleasantly surprised.

"Buneo Nacho isn't my usual lunch spot but I have had a naco or two. And I've seen some of his cable access cooking shows. You two should really come to one of my cooking classes."

Kim's expression was curious. "I, uh…"

"Still can't boil water?" Ron gently teased.

"It was almost there!" Kim snapped. "And then that sink hole had to sweep those RVs into an underground river."

"Found a whole new ecosystem." Ron shuddered. "I hope I never see another Giant Blind Catfish."

"Good thing we had your belt. The titanium kept the monster's mouth shut."

"It was cold down there, KP."

"It was your pants or your life." She reached out a fair hand and touched his arm. "Besides, didn't I keep you warm?"

His face turned as red as any boiled lobster. His girl friend joined when the Honeys' tongues started clicking.

"Your pants or your life; I'll have to remember that." Bai grinned.

The chef cleared her throat. "I need to check on my other diners. It was nice meeting you all. If you need anything just ask."

Once she left Lor had a question. "So, Ronald, when eet comes to ze 'pants losing' ees your Kimberly a coo-er or a gigg-ler?"

"Usually she just rolls her eyes. Sometimes she giggles. Then there was the time during the Moodulator incident when Shego…"

"Shego?" Eyes went wide with interest or, in Kim's case, alarm. "Zhere 'ave been rumors, but not of zis! Please, Ronald, tell us everything."

"There's nothing to tell." The female half of Team Possible said quickly. "Shego and I are…"

"Best enemies?" the French accent added a whole new layer of innuendo. "Nemeses meeting under ze Milky Way tonight, alone together to travel ze road not taken?"

"Eww! Gorhcy! Gorchy! GORCHY!" Kim grimaced.

"Methinks thou dost protest too much." A Franco-American War loomed.

Mala spoke up. "Perhaps we should change the topic to something less likely to end in fisticuffs?"

"I'm with you, Mala." Max nodded. "I'm so glad you wanted to go dancing, Ron. It's time for some fun."

"The Ronman's all about the fun. And what can I say? I'm a bon-diggity dancer. I love the salsa dancing, the salsa eating…"

"That's my Ron, full of pep and peppers." Kim laughed. "Here come the main courses, why don't we eat?"

WTOS

The rest of the dinner matched the antipasto in artistry. Kim limited Ron to two glowing comment cards. They left the restaurant, went down two blocks and turned up the street resounding with an infectious beat. After receiving their 'no-alcohol' stamps the six walked in.

Ron's large hand squeezed Kim's. "KP, the arches."

"Don't worry, Ron." She said reassuringly, though the dozens of smiling little faces gave her the creeps. "They all have had their living metal removed."

Once past the arches of deactivated lil' diablos they took in the other decor. Demons and imps were everywhere, along with the occasional skeleton. Every time someone stepped or sat or set anything down they symbolically rejected the Devil. A table beckoned. Everyone wisely chose a non-caffeinated beverage in anticipation of the dancing to come.

Savannah's bearers arrived for their reward. She graciously gave dances to all. The lucky young men also danced with the other Honeys.

Kim and Ron had fully booked dance cards. _If I had danced with you at the Spring Fling we would've started dating years earlier. _The Crimson cheerleader had the mad dance skills necessary for national level competition and she appreciated music for its own sake. But Ron, Ron seemed to have incorporated the beat into his very being. Football and ninja training had removed some of the gawkiness, replacing it with a confidence that Kim found irresistible. And the way he looked at her whenever they came close in the dance. The whispers of inadequacy brought on by comparing herself with some of the other dancers (they were freshmen again after all) faded in the glow of those eyes.

Everyone pulled themselves off the dance floor for some badly needed liquid refreshment. The Honeys scouted the crowd while Team Possible only had eyes for each other. Others had eyes for Ron as well. Three girls wearing Miskatonic shirts rushed up to Ron. Clearly they were a bit tipsy, though whether from alcohol or dancing it was difficult to say. Excited voices rose over the music.

"It's the Colorado dance machine!"

"Ronnie!"

"Darn, he's got another green eyed girl."

"Another?" The green eyes present threatened to emit laser beams at a particular blond boy.

"Yeah." One of the girls stared at Kim. "Omigod! Your eyes look exactly like hers did. You're like…eye twins, isn't that so weird?"

"Who was she, Ron?" The tone and expression would brook no evasion.

"Just a girl I met at the dance Mac and I went to last night. Yidhra."

"Some girl!" Another of his admirers scoffed. "She was a siren: a sexcicle with a sexy core all covered in a coating of sexibility. Just waiting for Ron to take a bite."

"All we did was dance, I swear!" His voice cracked. "That and walk her home after the fight."

"Fight?" Kim looked from one face to another. "Where were you dancing, a honky-tonk?"

"A couple of guys got fresh with her and she showed them the floor. Ronnie just played the gentleman and left with her." The third girl explained.

_I need some more explaining. _"Ronnie, it's late. Could you walk me back to my dorm?' Her tone was as sweet as it was demanding: a genuine feat.

"Sure thing, KP. Nice seeing you girls again."

"Nice seeing you." They chorused.

Savannah and her court had another table. Kim shook her head when a boy began to rise. "Ron and I are going back to the dorms."

Five knowing looks did not help her mood. Lor quickly made things worse. "Ah, Kimberly, I trust you have sometheeng to dress Ron in when 'e 'loses' 'ees pants? You Americans need to learn 'ow much fun eet can be to dress a man."

"We'll be just fine." Kim managed to not grind her teeth.

"Well, we'll be here a while yet. Ya'll take care. Nice meeting you, Ron." The Atlanta belle smiled.

"Nice meeting all of you." Ron replied. "Come on, KP, let's go."

WTOS

Wisdom won out over tweak and Kim enjoyed the walk across Harvard Square and onto Harvard Yard. She was fully in control when she asked the question. "What kind of name is 'Yidhra,' anyway?"

Ron's breath hitched a little but he managed to keep himself from stumbling as he walked. He had known this was going to come up, even before his 'fans' showed up at El _Diablo Pequeno_, but he had not been eager to bring it up. "Cuban; she said it was an old family name. Weird name, yeah. But I figured, hey, is 'Stoppable' all that normal? I know my cousin couldn't wait to take the name 'Starter' as a last name after the wedding. Keep in mind, Kim, my cousin was the _groom_."

They shared a laugh over that, but it did not last long.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Ron was slow on the uptake, but he knew she was not talking about the young Mrs. Starter.

"When did I have a chance?" Her relaxed voice and posture enabled Ron to answer quickly and easily. "It was late when you called and they were with you. And they've been with us all day asking questions. What is it with Siberia anyway?"

"A girl. A boy. A sleeping bad and no pants." She smiled slyly.

"So they…Kim!" the light went on in Ron's eyes. "My KP's keeping the mystery alive."

"Well, everyone knows everything in Middleton. Here they don't. It's nice to have other girls really listen when I talk about you."

"Ron Stoppable, boy toy. And you know what you do with toys…"

"That's far enough, for now." She laughed and leaned her head against his arm. "So she has eyes like mine?'

"No. She has your eyes, KP. I thought it was you until I saw her hair. It was Shego's."

"Shego's?"

"It was like she wasn't real. Like a dream. Every part of her reminded me of somebody: you, Shego, Zita, Bonnie, Yori, your…fellow Mad Dog cheerleaders."

"And there was a fight?"

"It was all her. She used some Cuban style to take them out. After that she said she'd feel safer if I walked her home."

By now they were at her dorm. She opened the door to the building. "Then what happened?"

"She tried to get me to kiss her. Said I could prove my love for you that way."

"And did you 'prove' your love?" She watched him closely as she stood in the door.

"I ran."

Kim laughed. "That's my Ron. You never prove your love for someone by kissing someone else." She stood aside to let him in. A whisper sent a thrill up his spine.

"I'm very selfish when it comes to your kisses."

They went up the stairs to the Kim's room. The door opened. Ron reached for the light when Kim pulled him away from the wall and into her arms. They kissed in the dark. Lips locked, tongues wrestled, hands roamed. They moved across the floor in another dance, this one ending when they toppled onto the bed. Kim's mind reengaged when they bounced on the mattress.

_Wake up, Possible. Lor's right; you don't have the gear for that kind of game. And there are some choices you never want to have to make._

She gently pushed him off of her and turned on the bedside light. If he was disappointed he hid it well.

"So, this is a college girl's room. Abooyah!"

"Yep. Me, my roommate, and a metric ton of clothes. It's a wonder the floor hasn't collapsed."

"Oh, KP. Savannah can't be that bad."

"No, it's worse. She has a climate controlled storage unit for her off season wardrobe. I'm so glad you're nearby, Ron. Everyone here's super smart or super rich or just plain super. I need…"

"Someone to remind you how badical you are?"

"Finishing my sentences now? In that case, I guess I'll have to keep you." Kim's smile turned into a soft kiss. "Walk you to the Red Line?"

"No, thanks, KP. You can do that next week. It's kind of cool walking you home away from home."

That won him another kiss. "Sure you're not an English major?"

"Miski doesn't restrict its students with majors. We're free to think outside the academic box."

"Then use some of that free mind to think about me. Goodnight, Ron. I love you."

"Love you too, KP."

She watched him strut down the hallway and across Harvard Yard. His head was back and his heels were clicking. Her hand came up to her mouth. When it came to Ron, she was a giggler.

'You're so good for each other.' Both of their mothers had told her on more than one occasion. She would need his essential Ronness to help keep her natural Kimness in check. For instance, she had intended to read after he left, but after two late nights she was too tired to really retain anything. And Ron's voice whispered in her mind: why read it tonight if you just have to read it again tomorrow? Time for bed. _After one call._

"Hey, Wade."

"Oh, hi, Kim." The eleven-year-old triple Ph. D. smiled out of the Kimmunicator screen at the eighteen-year-old college freshman. "I'm still putting the stuff on Amika together. I could give you what I have."

"That can wait. I just saw Ron. If she was on his mind, I'd know. The boy can't keep a secret. Except for the picnic at the Lake; now that was a romantic surprise."

Wade shrugged his shoulders. "It was a simple neural block. I already had his brain mapped out. And he did ask me to do it."

"How sweet…I think. Now about the sitch; Ron met this someone last night, she said her name was Yidhra and-"

"I'm sorry; she said her name was what?"

"Yidhra." She repeated a little concerned at the shock on her younger friend's face. "Why, have you heard of her before?"

"Well, yeah." The boy genius answered uncertainly. "But I'm having a tough time believing that Ron ran into her last night."

Kim frowned. "Yes he did, Wade. He said he did and three other people confirmed it."

"I'm not saying he didn't meet a girl. I'm saying he didn't meet Yidhra."

"Explain."

"Yidhra's a myth; a folk tale in almost every Indo-European language. Typically she either tempts the hero or offers love to the worthy. Everlot uses her as an NPC to eliminate destructive player characters when they get too powerful. They aren't risking another Wraith Master."

"So she just used the name?"

"Makes sense. There's always the chance her parents wanted a unique name, but it's like calling your kid 'Circe' or 'Aphrodite', exotic but so archaic it sounds just plain weird. If you get a photo send it to me and I'll run a check. Again, it's probably nothing, but…"

"Please and thank you. I'm turning in. I've got a lot of reading to catch up on tomorrow."

"If you need any tutoring just let me know."

"Don't hold your breath. Good night, Wade." The Kimmunicator turned off. Kim hummed as she got ready for bed.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the great oak just outside her window. It also moved the tattered cloak around the figure perched on a branch. The drawn blinds were no obstacle to his multifaceted eyes anymore than the shut window was to his ears. Both worked on a completely different level than terrestrial life. Satisfied that Kim was turning in the figure scuttled up the tree trunk and out onto a higher branch. He moved so smoothly that the thin wood hardly bent as the propelled onto the dorm rooftop with no more noise than a cat.

He ran along from roof top to roof top. Anyone seeing him assumed they saw a cat. The grace was certainly feline. Ron never noticed the shadow slip underneath the Red Line headed out from the station. But he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched.

WTOS

Arkham had its own street that catered to both town and gown. George Street boasted an array of shops, restaurants and entertainment venues ranging from the extra fine to the super funky. This being Arkham all shared a certain flair for the unusual. None more than an antique Store called 'Curious Goods'.

The young cameraman Ron had met on the Red Line walked up to the door. He paid no attention to the closed sign. None of the scattering of party goers or restaurant patrons saw him pick the lock and slip inside.

Halfway down the store's floor he stopped at a shelf. At first he had taken the object for a long knife but then he had seen the stacked cannon ball stamp. He picked up the weapon, handling it with great respect.

"Welcome to 'Curious Goods'." An older man made his way down to him. His beard and remaining hair was white. Despite his advanced age he still moved with purpose and power. That the man in front of him had entered through a locked door appeared to be no cause for alarm. But then, he did have a Viking sword in his hand. "I'm Jack Marshak. How can I help you?"

"I am Chiba Hayato." He extended his hand. Jack took it readily as each shifted their blades to the left hand. "I happened to notice this."

The old man looked over his reading glasses. "A sword bayonet for an Asakira 38th Year Rifle. From the Toyoko Arsenal, probably manufactured in the early Twenties. Ones like this are becoming rare."

"According to the tag this one comes from Saipan."

"Yes. I've been in the business for a long time. I try to verify every item. The man who sold it to the previous owner was with the Headquarters Company of the 105th Infantry. He was wounded in the banzai attack of July 7th 1944."

The young man was solemn. "My great-grandfather was stationed at Saipan. The Imperial government listed him among the fallen, but my family never knew his true fate. While there is little chance that this was his, it pleases me to imagine that I could return a part of him home."

"Take it with my compliments; a gift from one old soldier to another."

"Were you in the Pacific?"

The old man's eyes were elsewhere. "No, I was in the ETO."

"Honor demands that I pay a fair price."

"The tag says $70.00."

"I said a fair price." They shared a smile. "I will give you $50.00. That includes tax."

"Deal." Jack took Hayato's hand. They walked over to the register. Hayato continued to talk as he paid.

"Perhaps you are aware that I did not come here to find something so much as to meet someone."

"I thought so." The proprietor nodded. "This way please. You did lock the door when you came in?"

"It was prudent to do so, as it was prudent for you to ask." They walked down a flight of stairs. The basement was dark and cool. Shelves groaned under their eccentric inventory. It was everything one would expect in such a basement, with one exception.

Midway down on the left wall a massive door stood ajar. Light spilled out into the hallway. Jack motioned for Hayato to enter. That was when he noticed the door was made of steel.

The room contained a desk with an old phone, a couple of chairs and a single light overhead. Hayato recognized the man at the table. He rose to return Hayato's bow. After straightening up he bowed to Jack.

"Thank you, Marshak-san. We shall begin now."

"Very good." Jack bowed. "How much time will you require?"

"Thirty minutes should be satisfactory."

"If you need more time, or anything else, please let me know. The phone on the table works." The door closed with minimal noise, but Hayato found the clicking of tumblers a bit unsettling.

"Please sit, Hayato-san." The older man took his seat and reached into a drawer, producing a bottle and two square cups. "A toast to our success, ne?"

The younger man nodded. They raised cups. "Kampai."

Hayato's surveying of the room brought a smile to the older man. "It is good that you examine your surroundings, but you may relax. We are most secure here. This room once was used to contain very powerful and cursed items. No evil device can function in here. Once they discovered how to neutralize them, the owners cleared the room. Now people seeking safety lease it from them. I felt it wise to hear your report here. Arkham has many twisted ears."

"Then I shall begin." The cameraman produced an envelope. "I took the picture that you requested."

Eyes narrowed in concentration as the man examined the photograph. "After the preliminary report of Shoku group I felt it important to ascertain our charge. Good, his spirit is intact. A mutual acquaintance will be most pleased to hear this."

"I wish I had been there, but Shoku group's cover story has them living in Arkham. It was natural for them to be present at the party last night."

"They SHOULD have been with Stoppable-san when he left with the stranger, but they became lost."

"Lost?" Hayato blinked, unable to hide his shock. "That is impossible!"

"I would have agreed…yesterday. These are strange times, and this is a strange place." The man opened a drawer to take out pictures of his own. "And this is a most unusual person we are dealing with."

"You mean 'persons', do you not?" the younger man asked respectfully. "These are four photographs. He dances with a different woman in each."

"No, look closely. They were taken from four different angles at the exact same time; a remarkable feat by Shoku group. But even more disturbing is what happens when you tilt the photograph."

Hayato slowly tilted a photograph. "The image changed! Stoppable-san is the same but the woman…she has different hair, different complexion, and the dress…it's from another century!"

The older man's face was grim. "We can only assume it was she who sent the fog which blinded Shoku group. Clearly Stoppable-san is the target of some powerful malevolence. It is our honor to protect him."

"But how do we protect him from someone we cannot identify?"

"We rely upon our training, our instincts, and the one thing that has triumphed again and again over incredible odds…the Ron factor."

"If you say so. But I wish we were trusting to something more substantial."

"The clouds are nebulous, yet our lives depend on them." The older man rose and bowed again. "Thank you for your report. Be mindful that I shall probably call upon your group again."

The younger man bowed low. "We are honored to serve."

**Arkham Asylum is the property of DC Comics, you don't have to be crazy to work there, but it helps.**

**The store Curious Goods and its proprietor belong to CBS television. **


	14. Waiving the Red Shirt

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

My thanks to the reviewers: Katsumara, MrDrP, bigher81, Isamu, spectre666, King in Yellow, The Enduring Man-Child, Mack53B, aedan cameron, Shrike176, screaming phoenix, CajunBear73, Allaine, whitem, airwalker999. BlueEyedBrigadier, and everyone else, hope you found it up to snuff.

12. Waiving the Red Shirt

Rufus was asleep before Ron (quietly) closed the door. Mac had never returned, so the Naked Mole Rat marinated in the cool, quiet dark. By late afternoon he did not wince when there was a tap on his cage wall. He opened an almost normal looking eye.

"Hi." Daisy waved. Rufus twitched his whiskers in greeting and embarrassment.

The petite field mouse giggled, shifting the bundle on her back that she had fashioned out of a handkerchief. Beside her stood a can of vegetable-fruit cocktail, a dorm warming gift from Kim to Ron. ('In case you get back on your Bueno Nacho diet.' No one wanted to see that Ron again.) For the first time in his life someone had opened a fridge door in the same room and Rufus had not heard it.

He climbed out while Daisy removed the foil tab and took off her improvised pack. She dipped a dropper into the can and drew out the red liquid, which went into a dosage cup. Once she had a teaspoon and a half she pulled out a packet and a thumb tack. He recognized the festive colors immediately.

The punctured Diablo Sauce packet rested in her paws. "Say when." She squeaked.

After the third drop of fiery goodness, Daisy began to look concerned. Rufus said 'when' at five. Daisy stirred with the tack and shivered when she sniffed the steel. For his part Rufus threw back the impromptu Virgin Mary. Each rodent had just deeply impressed the other.

Given the excitement of the previous night, the pair was more than happy to just sit and watch the world pass by under the dorm window. That evening, they reopened the dorm fridge to raid the cheese. A pair of cake candles was perfect for the mood. They talked. Apparently Daisy's roots in Miskatonic ran deep, on her father's side back to when the Old Arkham Congregational Church sided with the New Lights who established Miskatonic College. Her mother's family was more recent; arriving in the 1950s at the Behavioral Research Lab. Fortunately maze running skills were genetic.

Rufus had little memory of his family, but plenty of tales regarding Ron and Team Possible. Daisy especially enjoyed his recounting of their one complete failure: baby sitting a ninja whirlwind named Hana.

At 9:00 pm the bells of the old college chapel rang. Beady brown eyes looked out the window and then at Rufus. "Gotta go." She squeaked.

The naked mole rat reached a pink paw out, grasping the field mouse's brown one. She leaned forward and closed her eyes. Neither long noses nor incisors nor whiskers got in the way. He passed out with a long sigh. Daisy giggled.

Moments later Daisy left. Rufus watched her scamper away. Some time later Ron stuck his head in the door, looking at the cage and speaking softly. "Hey, little dude, I picked up some nacos, are you interested?"

Rufus was on Ron's bed reclining against the pillow with both paws behind his head. He brought one out to give his equivalent of thumbs up.

WTOS

Kim woke up at what Nana would call 'Sunday School early'. She quietly cleaned up, got dressed and went to breakfast. She never went to Sunday School anymore, but she did make chapel. For once, she had no trouble staying awake. A light lunch followed and she went back to her room. Savannah was in the bathroom. The stack of books under her purse indicated she planned to study. Kim waited for her to come out, her mood growing decidedly unchristian.

The Atlanta belle emerged at 1:00 pm sharp. She showed no after effects of two late nights. Her careful makeup indicated she planned a study date. _How much study and how much date?_

"Good mornin'." Savannah chimed. "Why, Sugah, aren't you an early riser! Did you go to chapel? I hear they have quite a preacher."

Kim simply nodded.

"My family stopped goin' as soon as it wasn't compulsory: too many sermons directed at them in the way back. Suppose I'll need to find a Methodist Church next Sunday."

"Can we talk, Savannah?"

"Sure, Kim. But we need to make it quick? I'm meeting a boy to go over the Plato reading for my 'Life and the University' class. My Ancient Greek was never that good."

Kim frowned in confusion. "Why not just read the Penguin translation? That's the assigned text."

"As Big Daddy would say; that's like listenin' to somebody coverin' the Eagles! We learned Greek and Latin at Ms. Lavater's, and Sanskrit was added when Mala arrived our sophomore year. Now, what is so important, Sugah?"

"How about that little sitch with Ron at the station last night?" Kim folded her arms across her chest.

Blue eyes twinkled. Savannah laughed. "Oh, that? Wasn't that fun? Every boy should feel what's it's like to be on the meat market at least once, don't you think?"

"No, it was not fun. It was sick and wrong! Can't we forget the food chain? This isn't high school, Savannah Venable."

Her roommate looked into Kim's glare with an aplomb that Bonnie, even Shego, would have applauded. "No, Kim, it isn't. Just you remember, as much as you may rail against it, you've done everything to be on top of it; cheerleader captain, National Honor Society, all manner of clubs and committees, plus your little side line of savin' the world.

"And now you're in the Ivy League, where the leaders of the nation have been educated even before the War. However much you've cursed the ladder, you've only missed one rung."

"Which one?" Kim said with her teeth on edge.

"Why Ron, of course. He was never the smartest, or most popular or most handsome, and he only started sports the after you started datin'."

"He's a lot better than the so-called hotties." Kim growled.

"I dare say he is, Sugah. You're in a whole new world now; one where his qualities show. We weren't kiddin' last night. And speakin' of protein, you've seen him sans culottes, is he..."

"He's always worn, and needed, boxers." _Why did I just say that?_

"I thought so." Savannah laughed. She picked up her books and continued. "Your Ronnie has graduated from loser to a cute little bundle of potential. You're a Honey now, Kim, none of us will try to steal him, but you may still be in for a fight to keep him. I'm runnin' late, bye."

After Savannah left Kim turned back to her reading, but could make no headway in understanding Sikkim's Third Guru. Savannah's words echoed in her mind. _A fight for Ron; but one where fists and feet and gadgets are useless. But advice never hurt…_

The phone rang once before it picked up. Her adviser sounded none the worse for the three hour time differential. "Hello there, ILG. How's life out there in the real world?"

"Hey, Mon. Hope I didn't wake you."

"Nah, you know I open on alternate Sundays. I was just trying to figure out what to wear."

"How do you like the Coco Banana intern program?"

"Lovin' it, girl! They pay for everything. The only thing I'll owe when I get out is my Club Banana Charge Card, which I just got. An additional five percent off on all purchases!"

"Spankin'. And how is Mom's alma mater?"

Monique bubbled over. "GREAT! UU is da bomb! Goodbye, baby boys…hello, college men!" They laughed. As always Monique recognized the trail off that signaled a need to talk. "Ok, Kim. What's the matter?"

Kim blew an errant red lock away from her face. "It's Ron. Yesterday he came over and met my roommate and her old gang. He was himself."

"And they got all snooty?"

"No, they ate it up! Then, after dinner we went out dancing and some girls from Miskatonic came up and just went gooey over his dancing from a party he was at Friday night."

"He does have moves for a white boy."

"Mon!" Kim allowed herself a smile. "Anyway, I talked to Savannah today about it. She even used the 'p' word."

"Which 'p', the fun one?" Kim could hear the grin in Monique's voice.

"No, my 'p' word: potential! Five beautiful, accomplished girls gave him a thorough going over and he came out with flying colors. And then I found out that a woman threw herself at him at that party Friday night."

"Threw herself?"

"It sounded like a major Bonnie sitch. I can't keep an eye on him all the time…"

"Well, you got that boy chipped."

"Yeah, I could, but I can't!" Never having had a phone cord, Kim twirled a lock of hair. "But what if that Yidhra goes after him again? Or that, grrrrr, Marie. She's there you know."

"Marie, the cheerleader from as you put it 'way down South in Dixie' and by that I don't mean where old times dar are not forgotten."

"She's a cheerleader at Miskatonic, the first freshman in decades! If I didn't know any better I'd say Ron was right about her the first time."

"Kim, get a grip before you're the one that's green and freaked!" Monique's voice returned to normal. "Besides, that boy's a one-Kim man. You've got to know how bad he's got it for you."

"I kind of got a clue last night when we fell onto the bed."

"Into the bed?' INTO THE BED?!" Monique squealed.

"Vowel check, Mon. I said 'onto' not 'into'." Kim frowned, then smiled. "But it was, well, hot."

"So, our boy's showing a little initiative."

"We were all over each other. We've made out before of course but this time it was way dif. It was…"

"A real big?" Kim's BGFF chuckled on the other end. "Sorry, girl, I've been dying to say that ever since that little picnic you two had this summer."

"No! Well, yes it was…the point is I think he was ready. Really ready."

"And you weren't?"

"Physically and emotionally, yes, but mentally... I know how I feel about him and part of me knows it's a matter of time. It's just that last night I wasn't sure if I would have been making love or staking a claim. What's more, I didn't have any protection."

"Then go get some today. You can get a little container to go in your purse that won't look like you're out on the prowl. Nobody else has to know, especially not Ron. Anyway, it's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it."

"Sounds like Mr. Barkin the day he filled in for Health Class. Of course he used that phrase to refer to a gun. How did you get to be so wise about love, Mon?"

"It comes from the total lack of a boy worthy of me." Monique joked. "I hope college gives me a boy toy to muddle my mind each semester. But seriously, Ron's yours as long as you want him. Just make sure you're ready for that step."

"Thanks, Mon. That really helped. Oh, I guess I better let you go."

"Yeah, store opens in an hour. Say 'hi' to the two Rs for me."

"You got it. Bye."

Kim relaxed. No villain was half the challenge of being in love. _In love with the most wonderful, baffling boy in the world. He's not the most dangerous; that's a toss-up between the Tweebs. _He was hers, all right, as sure as she was his. Her mood now matched the sunlight filtering through the branches and leaves of the ancient oak outside her window. Something caught her eye.

_There must be a big cat roaming around here. Those are some deep scratches on that bark._

WTOS

Ron took his place in the back row of the video room in the field house. He shifted in his seat with a clatter of pads. The first meeting the week of the first game; last year he was the starting quarterback, now he was a red shirt freshman. Not only would he not be playing, he would not be going. Red shirts did not travel on away games in order to save money. If the game was televised they would be expected to watch it here. This one was not going to be televised.

Steve nodded to him before he returned to his conversation with the other receivers. Martin Pressive walked among the other slated to play Saturday. The senior quarterback could not suppress his eagerness. Others tried to hide their tension.

Coach Takeshi entered ahead of his staff. Everyone rose.

"Be seated!" Coach Grizzard bellowed.

Ron watched Takeshi closely. The coach's face reminded him of an old samurai movie when the wise general had to devise a plan in the face of a patently hopeless situation.

"Gentlemen." He began. "Welcome to the 125th year of Miskatonic Football. You are links in a chain of honor extending back to the nineteenth century. It is my task to make sure that future generations look back at you the way you honor those heroes of seasons past.

"I know what you are thinking." The Head Coach looked slowly over his players. "That we are doomed. That an Ivy League school has no business playing the projected winner of the Big Men Conference. I tend to agree. No one can even tell me why or when this game was scheduled. I thought we were opening at Holy Cross.

"Even their coach is finding it difficult to sound concerned. He is quoted in the Haysville Gazette. 'Coach Takeshi is an inspired leader, who will bring a highly intelligent and well disciplined squad of players.' In other words, he is looking forward to a relaxing afternoon of pick-up-and-smear."

Storms gathered in Takeshi's dark eyes. "We are no one's patsy! He is right about one thing: you are a highly intelligent and disciplined squad. Remember your Musashi: we will do the unexpected! We shall blitz when we should hang back, run when we should pass. And we will go for it when we should punt. We will throw them off balance and make them regret their arrogance. For who are we?"

"The Fighting Cephalopods!" The team shouted.

"Who?" Takeshi challenged.

"THE FIGHTING CEPHALOPODS!"

"Let them hear you in Haysville!"

"**THE FIGHTING CEPHALOPODS!!!!!**"

The Coach smiled fiercely. "That is true fighting spirit! Let's hit the field!"

It was a most effective speech. The team was confident for an entire day.

WTOS

Shoes echoed in the empty stacks of the John Hay Library. Professor Litchfield walked up to the door of the Solomon Kane Collection. A special collections librarian waited for him. "I always knew you'd end up here eventually." The man turned and opened the door.

"Enjoy. When you leave the doors will lock automatically." The librarian left.

Litchfield's heart quickened. He felt like a lothario who had at last gained entrance to his intended's boudoir.

Glyphs shone dully on the curved threshold. They could no longer deny him entrance. The emeritus ignored the shelves of ancient wisdom and headed straight for the glass covered stand in the middle of the room. Reality matched dreams when he finally lifted back the glass.

Litchfield reverently laid his hand upon the Al Azif. Above the mantle, the portrait of Solomon Kane looked on. The old professor of dead and esoteric languages would have sworn the puritan had tightened his grip on his rapier hilt.

"Over the centuries every imam, every priest and every rabbi have burned any copies of this that they came across. Anyone familiar with its wisdom faced a certain trip to the gallows. Their violence reflected their justified fears of its power. Yet you kept the very first copy as a trophy! And they say evil is arrogant."

An overstuffed chair beckoned to cranky bones. He laid a writing platform across his lap and set the precious tome upon it. Though he no longer smoked, he took out an old pipe and clenched it between his teeth. Its ivory bowl was decorated with what to the ordinary person was a fanciful aquatic figure.

WTOS

Classes hit full swing Monday. Between studies and practice neither member of Team Possible found time for anything other than meals and exhausted sleep. Kim as always was trying to juggle a full course load with cheer leading plus she had been asked to assist with the self defense class at the Women's Center. So far she had come up with fifty-seven scenarios. Of course she found time to call home, her friends and Ron.

Ron appreciated the slightly lower pressure that came from being a red shirt freshman. He participated in practice but he was not required to attend the study sessions for the coming game. (Which helped explain his and the other red shirts more chipper outlook, they had only impossible faculty demands to deal with.) Takeshi and his staff worked hard, but in private the players saw little hope.

Classes were another challenge. At first Rufus would swat Ron with a Popsicle stick when the boy would nod off during his studies. But into the second week of university he was staying awake. Much to his surprise and Dr. Spengler's delight, he was beginning to discover an interest in philosophy.

"So, Ron the philosopher." Kim rolled on the bed, phone at her ear. "Does this mean that your 2:30 am calls will be about life the universe and everything from now on?"

"Hey, that was about insecurity. The Ronman knows where he stands now." The boy sat at his desk. Rufus put a paw up and they touched knuckles. "You know, you need to come up to Arkham some weekend. You're good enough for Harvard, I think Miski won't snub you."

"Haha. Next time, funny boy. I just wanted to get you up here without a studio audience." Kim glanced over at her roommate's empty desk. "Savannah's gone home for the weekend. The family's planning logistics for next week's game. They may be feeding the entire Greater Boston area. You're coming up with the team, right?"

"Yep. I'll be on the bus. I don't have to go back with them unless something goes tragically wrong and we get trounced by you guys so bad that Coach Takeshi makes us all go back for a chewing out."

"Darn, I was hoping for a little time together that evening." Harvards' most famous freshman cheerleader chided. "We have to see the team off tomorrow when they leave for Cornell. Your team left today, didn't they?"

"Flew out this evening. The Red Shirts all went to the airport. Tom Weston wanted to shout 'banzai' at the Coach, but we weren't sure how he'd take it."

"How did the Coach look?" Kim knew the odds Miskatonic was facing.

"Like it was a kamikaze flight. At least whoever scheduled the game provided for the trip. They left on a 757. We're just glad they don't come here next year. Don't think we could fit their fans in our stadium."

Rufus puffed out his chest, threw back his shoulders and stomped around like a massive linebacker. After that he took a marker and wrote out 'Ohio' in elegant script.

"Just the two of us." The soft voice sighed into his receiver, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. "Rufus is all right, isn't he? I mean, how can he resist the stunt you've got planned?"

Ron could not miss the resignation in the last line. "Oh c'mon, KP, it'll be a blast!"

"That's what I'm afraid of." She sighed. "Be sure you take your 'clean air' pills before you get here. If you can't show me an empty blister pack we're going to Mr. Bartley's instead. I'm kinda interested in trying the Drakken Burger."

"A Drakken Burger?" Ron was incensed. "Why not a KP?"

"Actually they were nice enough to ask me when I got here but I declined. Nobody's eating…" KA-CHUNK! KA-CHUNK!

"KP! KP! Is somebody attacking you?"

The red headed, red-faced girl quit beating her forehead against her desk. "No, Ron. I'm fine. Anyway, the menu reads: 'This wicked good burger comes slathered in bleu cheese and is adorned in greens.' Sounds tasty. I've eaten Drakken's lunch plenty of times, metaphorically speaking, why not do it for real?"

"But you've never raided his fridge befo-ah, metaphor, a college word. Yep, we've eaten his lunch, cleaned his clock, punched his ticket, sent him packing..."

Kim shook her head indulgently. "Look, I've got some more reading to do, a cheer routine to review, and I really need to take a walk around campus tonight. I want to be able to point out the danger areas for the self defense class."

"Can't you get that from the Campus Police records?"

"Schools aren't always forthcoming with that info, especially when it comes to sexual assault. Besides," green eyes took on the familiar mission mode look, "bad guys adapt too."

"Be careful, KP. Don't harsh out too much on some garden variety criminal."

"They'd only get what they deserve. I'll be careful. Night, Ron. Love you."

"Right back at'cha, KP."

An hour later, an ordinary mugger ran into a most extraordinary would-be victim.

WTOS

No tourist took his picture this time but Ron could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Arkham was in an arch of university towns and high tech research cities and thus had an international cast. Still, Ron was sure he had never seen so many Japanese outside of Japan. And he was sure that a few times they looked away just as he turned towards them.

_Starting to think too much of yourself. Chill out, dude. Monkey Fist's stone, there's nobody out there with eyes for the Ronman. Well, just one, Abooyah!_

And those green eyes glowed as he stepped off the train. Ron caught the warm and passionate 105 pound missile that launched herself into his embrace.

"Oh, man. All we need are trench coats and some Glenn Miller in the background."

Kim smiled. "Why, Ron, that's a nice set of references. I do believe you're getting smarter every day."

The boy flashed a winning smile and shrugged. "What can I say? Mom plays some of her grandmother's records sometimes."

"Well come on, nostalgia boy. We're doing the historical tour today."

They hit the high points: Boston Harbor, the Old North Church and Bunker Hill. "You know, Ron. The battle was actually fought on Breed's Hill."

"Hey, as John Wayne would say; print the legend."

"What?" Kim puzzled.

"From an old western, 'Liberty Valance' but I don't think it was the Duke's line." Ron pulled her close when a cool breeze made her shiver. "Maybe you should put your sweater on."

Kim took the cheer squad sweater from around her waist. That morning she had debated leaving it in her room. The weather report had called for an unseasonably cool day and needing it would have provided an excuse to get him into her empty dorm room.

_That's not how it's going to happen: Ron turning around and seeing me drop the key down my shirt. I'm ready, but for now it's up to him to make the move._

She could not read Ron's mind. _Wish she would've left it in her dorm room. Bet all the other rooms and halls are empty. I know I want some privacy. Even picked up some protection this morning. Nearly ran into Amika at the drug store door. Wonder why she was blushing?_

He sighed inwardly. _Maybe next time. _"Too bad Rufus isn't here, I'm sure he'd remember who said it. Wonder why he stayed at the dorm this time?"

WTOS

His pet was not at the dorm. Instead Rufus shuffled a paw nervously on a cobblestone in front of a cleverly concealed small door at the imposing mansion he had watched Daisy go to the night of the mixer. His sharp round ears picked up last second scurries. The handle turned and the door opened.

Until now Rufus would have never used the term 'imposing' to describe a mouse. The figure before him was neither tall nor stout but the dark eyes were alive with intelligence and will. He had the bearing of a rector but there was nothing poor about this church mouse.

Not knowing what else to do Rufus stuck out a paw. "Rufus."

"John." The mouse took Rufus' paw into his own. His shake was firm.

Another mouse scurried up. She was white with friendly red eyes. "Prudence. Daisy's mom." she squeaked. They shook paws. The three made small chatter until they heard a shriek.

The parents turned with chagrin. Rufus barely noticed, he had heard a variation of that cry a thousand times. While she did not call them 'tweebs' Daisy was definitely not being complimentary to the four younger siblings hanging off of her.

Her father snapped. "Enough."

At his command the quartet of terror rolled over Rufus. Only his training enabled him to stay upright and preserve what he held behind his back. When their mother spoke the four lined up in front of their hairless guest.

"Henry, Ralph, Nathaniel and Louisa." She said proudly. They bowed to him, and then broke into a chant.

"Daisy and Rufus! Daisy and Rufus!"

"Argh!" Daisy charged the chorus, which scattered with a laugh. Her chest heaved and her cheeks burned. Suddenly she started.

One thing Rufus had learned at Yamanouchi was the rudiments of flower arranging. He had found some fall blooms which he then wrapped up with fine moss. Her father looked at the blossoms closely.

"You took them all?"

"No." Rufus answered. That would have been rude.

"Good, threatened species." The pater familias mus gestured to another room. "Dinner."

When the parents and siblings went forward Daisy took a deep breath from her bouquet and gave Rufus a peck on the cheek. She led him to the dining room. A set of long forgotten (and by now quite valuable) miniature furniture waited. Cheeses, fruits and nuts made for a bountiful feast. A pair of shrews raced about with wine and grape juice. Everyone lifted their glasses with John.

"Miskatonic!" he squeaked proudly.

"Miskatonic!" They drank.

It all reminded Rufus of the Possibles' house, with himself playing the part of Ron. Whenever Daisy looked into his eyes he melted.

Try as he might, John could not scowl.

WTOS

Kim groaned inwardly at the booth at Felipe's Taqueria. Ron looked none the worse as he started on the final leg of his peculiar quest.

"Tell me again why we had to do all four?" Her face was lined with disbelief. "We have a Qdoba and a Chipolte in Middleton! You could have just had a supreme burrito here and at Bolocco."

"The first two are points of reference, KP. That's why we went there first. You have to have a base line for a proper experiment." He took another bite. "Oh man, check out all the chorizo! Sure you don't want any?"

"I'm sure." Kim picked at her salad. At the other places she had nothing but the complimentary chips with salsa and water. But without a mission or workout to burn it off she felt leaden by this time. _We'll have to take a walk after this. He's going to take me to Finale after this. He sooo owes me a Chocolate Infatuation._

"Ron, did you…"

The boy barely looked up from the task at hand. He tossed her a bit of foil and plastic. "One for each burrito."

Her brows went up. "As unpleasant as it can be, it does serve a purpose. Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Hey, so long as it's not haggis, the Stoppable digestive system can handle it."

"Like the Stoppable Fortress of Immunity" she teased.

"That was one bad bug, KP. These are just badical eats!" he settled back with a sigh.

_He looks ready to explode. Maybe not tonight._

"Uh, KP." He seemed a little anxious.

Her reply was soft. "Yes, Ron?"

He hesitated a moment. "Is there a TV around here somewhere? I'd like to catch the score."

Many girls would have been put out by such a question, especially if they were thinking along Kim's lines. But Ron was no sports nut. He wanted to know how his team had fared in Ohio. His loyalty was one of his most winning attributes. Kim turned her wrist and activated the Kimmunicator.

"Hey, Kim." Wade smiled. "Enjoying the quiet?"

"While it lasts." She answered cryptically. "Could you give us a feed on today's games?"

"Ron wants to see how Miski did at Haysville, huh?" Wade tapped some keys. "There! You'll get a streaming web cast from Obsessive Sports Network in five…four…three."

Kim rolled her eyes when Wade went quiet, holding out first two fingers, then one and finally faded out and the web cast began.

**Welcome back. We're at the half here in Swamp City for the World's Largest RV show, plus a game. With two quarters gone we have a good one; 17 to 15. Love how Coach Howden always set himself up for the win instead of playing it safe. **

**Now to show you what else is going on in the wild, wonderful world of college football. What have you got for us, Bill?**

**Well, Jack, we've got lots of scores and highlights. And even though it's just the first week of the season, we already have our clip of the year. ESU unveiled its new mascot today to what was supposed to be great fanfare. Instead they got a little drama. **

Kim and Ron looked at each other. "Isn't…"

**ESU Senior Cheer Captain Brandi A'bot and Freshman Cheerleader Bonnie Rockwaller were bringing the mascot out for the unveiling.**

They strained to see exactly what was going on in the shadowed entryway of the stadium. They could make out a leggy bleached blonde and a familiar tanned brunette struggling with something under a cover. Were they having trouble with the thing, or were they fighting over it? The object crashed into a wall and Bonnie came streaking out onto the field.

**And yes, you are witnessing the unofficial fastest running of the hundred yards.**

"I'd run like that too." Ron quavered. "If I had a tarantula on my head."

Kim nodded. "A Bird-Eating Tarantula. It's almost too big to balance on her."

**It took the ground crew, both teams, and the ESU Marching Band to catch Ms. Rockwaller.**

**You know, Bill, ESU was right to change its mascot, the Scalp Hunter was patently offensive, but maybe they should have picked something a little more cheerleader friendly. **

**Right you are, Jack. We just want to assure everyone that both girl and arachnid are fine. Neither bit the other.**

"That's a relief." Kim sat back.

**And now onto some game footage. This being the first week, there were the usual human sacrifices, or in this case, a calamari dinner. **

The joke caused Ron to jump out of his seat. "We're not Squids! It's the Fighting Cephalopods!"

"Ron." Kim reached up and put her hand on his arm. "Squids are cephalopods. It's no big."

"Really?" the boy looked down at her. "You're the Crimson, how would you like it if somebody called you the Reds?"

Kim could not help but glare at Ron. So did the other Harvard students within earshot. Even the head of the Marxist Student Collective muttered "It's Crimson!"

"Okay." Kim laughed. "You've made your point, Pod Boy."

"I am what I is!" He sat back down mollified.

**The Fighting Cephalopods journeyed to Haysville, Ohio to take on the Huckleberries. **

Kim held Ron's hand as they watched scarlet and gray clad behemoths roll over the Ivy Leaguers. It quickly began to look like combat footage as stretcher after stretcher carried off a victim in white and brown and red.

**Martin Pressive showed he's a real talent, going thirteen for twenty-eight with one touchdown and two interceptions, neither of which was his fault. He even had a rushing touchdown in the forth quarter against the Haysville subs. **

**He didn't have much choice but to run it himself, Jack. The Huckleberries had torn through his backfield and the depth chart. Looks like Coach Takeshi will be going over his red shirt roster tonight.**

"Oh, Ron." Kim frowned. "I liked you being red shirted this year. Neither of us had to go to away games. We were going to have four weekends together. And now…"

Ron tried to sound disappointed, "When Miskatonic rolls into town next Saturday, I'll be suited up."

WTOS

All too soon it was time for Ron to catch the last tram to Arkham. He almost missed it, lost in the passionate embrace of a red-headed Crimson. Kim's eyes sparkled.

"Booyah." She whispered as Ron let his hands slide down from her waist, hidden under her low hanging jacket. "Wouldn't Mr. Barkin be upset with us? Not to mention Dad."

"You don't think he has the place under surveillance do you?" The boy was suddenly nervous. "I mean, Rufus said he had a laser grid across your door at the Arkham Arms."

"Wade did that for him. And remember, Wade promised to NEVER spy on us for the 'rents." She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to her for another kiss. "Now you better get going, Miski Man."

"Oh, I'm gone." Ron sighed. Kim responded with a giggle.

She leaned against a column to watch the tram pull away. So this was not the big night. Still, like Monique had pointed out, the boy was showing initiative. The grab had been exciting and amazingly bold for her Ron. _Soon, when we're both ready_. Something caused her to look over her shoulder as the train lights faded into the rising fog.

A well dressed man sat on a bench by the station, looking at a magazine. She did not recognize him, but Ron would have. He was the manager of the jewelry store in the Arkham Arms. His dark eyes glanced up to the amulet hanging from her neck. It seemed to her that he nodded his approval.

WTOS

Ron stepped onto the practice field feeling like a new man. The running back coach let the sneer drop from his face for a moment when he presented Ron with his practice jerseys.

"Put those kiddie clothes over on the pile." He had motioned to Ron's red shirt jerseys. "You're playing with the big boys now."

Decked out in his new white jersey, Ron stood beside Steve, who flashed him a smile. "I knew they couldn't keep you out all season."

"Thanks, Steve." Before he could say more, Coach Takeshi walked up to face the team.

"Saturday was a difficult day for us. Worthy suffered a compound fracture to his left leg and will be out for the remainder of the season. As for Simmons' concussion, the MRI revealed nothing." A raised eyebrow stopped the snickering. "He should be back to practice by Thursday. The rest of our backfield injuries were sprains and bruised ribs. We should have everyone back to full speed within six weeks. Therefore, I have activated our red shirt running backs."

Ron and two others raised their hands to a round of encouragement. The response brought a nod of approval from Takeshi. "I hope the three of you have been studying your playbooks…and your Musashi."

The only thing different from the previous practices was who they spent their time with. Ron pushed himself whenever he saw Takeshi or Pressive looking at him. By the end of practice, he was exhausted.

"You did well today." Takeshi came over and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I had hoped to give you a year to build up your strength and to learn my system, but one cannot dictate to Fate. Now, about Wednesdays…"

"Yes, Coach, I'll tell them I'm going to have to drop out."

"Actually, I was going to insist you go." The coach looked at Ron. "Why do you think so many samurai practiced calligraphy or music? Too much attention to something can be as detrimental as too little. You need balance, and the Kendo Society can teach you that among other things…useful things."

"I'll be there."

"Good! Now, go and hit the showers. It will reinvigorate your mind for your studies tonight."

A pair of eyes narrowed as they watched Ron leave the field. A member of the defensive scout team had come out of the projection room. They had spent the last three days studying their coming parts as Harvard defenders. Nelson Vandergraft was preparing with relish for his role as linebacker.

The hostility to the Colorado twerp had faded when Ron was red shirted. Now it was back with hurricane force. Tomorrow they would go all out at the offense.

"All right, Ronnie-boy. Let's see how well you do without a cheerleader to watch your back."

WTOS

"How much pain can you take, Stoppable?"

Ron looked askance at Pressive. "What's the plan?"

"It's third and three. We're going to spread them out and I'm going to hit you coming across the middle. Might hurt."

Ron was no fan of pain. But neither was he the type to let someone else down. _I've taken plenty of hits from guys playing for keeps. Girls and monkeys too. _His face lined with determination. "Bring it on."

Pressive nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. Three Flare on six."

Nelson smiled as he watched the offense line up and the backs moved during the count. The scout team knew the offense in a way no opponent could ever hope to. It helped offset the general lack of size and speed. Vandergraft lacked neither. And now he knew the play was coming his way.

The ball was snapped. Pressive took two steps back and faked to the far sideline. Before the defenders could readjust, he fired the ball.

Ron had stepped to the outside before making his cut across the middle. His defender was faked out and left behind by his burst of speed, but the linebacker was not fooled. Before Ron could take two steps, they collided.

Nelson hit Ron high, bringing a fist into a kidney as he wrapped Ron up. Two other defenders joined Vandergraft in bringing him down. They tried to wrest the ball away from Ron. While that went on, Vandergraft gave Ron another rabbit punch.

_That should get him to peeing blood._

Ron felt sick. Vandergraft had done more damage than he had planned, or even wanted to do. The duct to the right kidney was badly damaged. Without immediate attention, the organ would die.

Unseen by the others, Ron shut his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them, they glowed blue. Sensei had strongly admonished him to never abuse the Mystical Monkey Power for sport. "But only a fool will not take medicine when ill."

By the time the defenders got up, the pain and damage was gone. A hand helped Ron up. He looked at his quarterback with his normal brown eyes. Pressive smirked at Nelson.

"That was a six yard gain. First down."

For the rest of practice Pressive put on a coaching clinic; with Ron as his main teaching tool. By the time they turned on the running game, the defense was completely back on its heels.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Takeshi applauded. "Remember to do that on Saturday! Get some rest and enjoy tomorrow off."

Once the offensive unit turned to the showers, Takeshi bowed to the scout team. "And you have done an excellent job simulating Harvard. You did well with Haysville also, though I think we needed to borrow the New England Patriots for that. Hit the showers."

Before he could turn to the portal, Nelson felt Takeshi's hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Vandergraft, I must commend you on your performance with the scout team. It shows ability and a genuine commitment to the team."

"Thanks, Coach."

"Your strength and talents are also impressive. Had the previous coach not recruited so many defensive players, I would no doubt have you on my roster."

Vandergraft was smiling when Takeshi's hand reached up and pinched a seemingly insignificant bit of skin on Nelson's neck between his thumb and forefinger. The pain was indescribable.

"However, your technique was off today." The Coach said mildly. "One would almost think you were attempting to hurt Stoppable as opposed to merely tackling him. A suspicious coach would dismiss you from this field, banning you from ever playing here again. Another might even press charges. I, however, would prefer to give you another chance. Hopefully you will mature emotionally and mentally, becoming a better person and a true teammate. Are you willing to accept my offer?"

The freshman nodded to the smaller man. Takeshi let Vandergraft go. He smiled as Vandergraft rubbed his neck.

"I'm glad we could come to this accord. Why don't you go get cleaned up?"

WTOS

"You are okay, Ron?" Kim asked for the third time. Ron's recounting of the scrimmage omitted the deliberate nature of his injury, but had Kim concerned nonetheless. "I mean, you have a team doctor."

"Don't need one, KP. Not when I've got the Mystic Monkey Mojo going." Ron raised his hand for Rufus' high five. Even though she was not there to see him, Ron stuck out his lower lip. His voiced dropped.

"I could use some Five Alarm Lip Therapy."

"Nice try." Kim grinned. "But I'm swamped with work. Cheer practice has been crazy since it's a home game. I have to take tomorrow's practice off to attend a Sikh ceremony and feast for my 'Societies of the World' class."

"Ah, man! You get to go to feasts! Why don't I get classes like that?"

"Because you aren't at Fair Harvard." Kim replied with her best Katherine Hepburn imitation. "Now, I think we need to get to studying. Some of us want to make good grades."

The last part was not directed at Ron. Kim watched Savannah as she climbed out the window to meet another prospective beau. Even with no restrictions or bed checks, the girl could not resist scampering off in the family tradition. Moments after they had exchanged affections and hung up the Kimmunicator went off.

_Not now! I need to study! _ Kim's worry vanished when she saw Wade's relaxed posture.

"What's up, Wade?"

"I've got what you wanted on Nagema Amika."

Her eyebrow arched. "Let me guess…another graduate of a certain super secret ninja school?"

"No. Amika's strictly public school: Valedictorian of her high school in Kyoto. Accepted by every college she applied to."

Kim pursed her lips. "Then what was she doing at a kendo club table?"

"Signing up new members. Amika was national champion in kendo two years straight. It's in her blood. Her grandfather is Master Yamazaki."

"Who's that?"

The tech guru looked scandalized. "The man who trained Schwarzenegger for the Conan movies! I mean really, Kim, don't you care about…"

"Mindless macho mayhem? Not so much." The redhead retorted. "So maybe that was just a coincidence."

"Maybe." Wade agreed. "Now, about Coach Takeshi."

Kim was puzzled. "I never asked about him."

"I knew you would eventually." The computer whiz smiled. "He is a Yamanouchi grad. Came to college in America in '77 and has worked in athletics ever since. This is his first head coaching job."

"So." Kim's eyes narrowed. "Can you get me through to Sensei?"

"Don't know." Wade's fingers were flying across his keyboard. "A super secret ninja school like Yamanouchi might not even have…got it!"

"You have Yamanouchi's computer system?"

"No, a student's phone. It has video capability."

In a moment Sensei's inquisitive face filled the Kimmunicator screen. "Ah, Kim Possible! To what do I owe this honor?"

"Can you tell me why a Yamanouchi grad is doing coaching my Ron?"

"Takeshi-san? Oh, that is simple." Sensei smiled. "He loves American football, he always has. He brought a football with him to Yamanouchi. In time he formed a team, and then a league incorporating other schools. It was good for the students…ninjitsu can lend itself to isolation; he helped combat that with his game.

"As to his becoming a coach; we provide education, training and a philosophy of life. What a student does with it is up to them."

"So this is all…"

"Serendipity." The old man looked serene. "Takeshi-san was a most excellent student. Stoppable-san can learn much from him."

"Thank you for your time, Sensei. Hope I wasn't too much of a bother."

"None at all, Kim Possible. It is always an honor to speak with you. No concern on your part would have been a cause for great concern on mine. Good-bye."

Kim turned off the Kimmunicator and brought the window down, but did not shut it completely. She sat down at her desk, absently mouthing her pen as she read.

_I bet that will be some kind of Kendo class. _

WTOS

"C'mon, Rufus, we're going to be late!" Ron was running through the lobby of the Student Center.

"Hink, we?" the naked mole rat frowned at Ron from the side pocket of Ron's duffel bag. After all, he had made sure Ron loaded down the cafeteria tray. It was Ron who insisted on going back for seconds. Mac and Amil were still stunned at Ron's eating capacity.

The scuffle of feet greeted Ron as he opened the door. _Hey, we're on time! They must have started early. _He noticed people in sparring gear seated on the floor. They were watching a match.

Coach Takeshi was on the floor. Instead of sparring gear he wore a traditional kimono. A katana gleamed in his hands. His hair was pulled up in a top-knot. He looked straight out of a samurai movie.

His opponent looked like he had stepped off the musketeer lot. He wore the high boots, loose pants, shirt and a tabard all in black. All he lacked was the plumed hat. His right arm was fully extended, the tip of his rapier absolutely still. The left arm was pulled back, in his hand the main gauche twirled lazily.

"Bledsoe."

The man in black lunged at Takeshi. The Coach caught the rapier on his blade. A twist allowed him to just avoid a thrust from the main gauche. Takeshi launched an attack of his own. Bledsoe needed both blades to catch the katana. For a moment he had the blade trapped and he tried to force it to the ground. The katana pulled free at the last moment with a shower of sparks.

Before Bledsoe could close again Takeshi reached to his obi and pulled out his wakizashi. He shifted his style, fighting in Bledsoe's fashion. The admissions officer's grin revealed his confidence. Suddenly Takeshi stepped through the blur of blades to lay the spine of his katana against Bledsoe's neck. The taller man drew up to his full height and brought his sword up in salute. The class applauded.

"I hope you were all paying attention." While he talked Takeshi slipped his blades back into their scabbards. "If you believe the movies, the Western arts have nothing to teach us. That is wrong. The old Fencing Masters of the West were every bit as studious and rigorous as those of the East. After all, it was about survival. The returning students will please go to the left with Bledsoe-san."

The admissions officer was soon decked out in kendo gear, carrying a waster sword and dagger. Ron had seen SCA people using those before. Soon a circle of students learned how difficult it could be to face a fencing master.

The new members went with Takeshi. Rufus unzipped the duffel bag for Ron; he was already in his own gear. Ron suited up quickly.

"Some of you I know." Takeshi bowed to Ron. "Others I have heard of." He bowed to Amika. "Now I should like to learn of your skill levels. A simple test will suffice for now. Nagema-san, Stoppable-san, first up!"

The freshmen bowed to Takeshi and then to each other. Gripping his bokken in both hands, Ron took his stance. Amika stood, feet at shoulder width, her bokken resting at her left hip. She appeared to be waiting to draw it. The quizzical tilt of Ron's mask brought a smile to her face. Her musical voice lilted to him.

"Please, Stoppable-san, feel free to use the traditional stance."

Unsure of what she meant, Ron stayed in his posture. The referee called for the match to begin. Before he could move, Amika's right hand shot over to her left hip. The bokken came up and she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Winner…Nagema-san!"

For the rest of the evening the new students sparred. Ron won more than half his matches. Amika defeated all comers. Most never had a chance to move before her bokken touched them. Rufus came the closest to defeating her, crossing bokken twice before she tapped his mask.

"Sensei!" he bowed to her.

"Hardly." She giggled, taking off her mask. "But flattery will get you anywhere."

After class, Amika was surrounded by admirers. Some even had pictures for her to autograph. As he waited to talk to her, someone tapped Ron on the shoulder.

"Oh, not again! I…oh, hey, Mr. Bledsoe."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Ronald." The admissions officer showed his long teeth in a smile. "Perhaps we shall have a chance to cross blades eventually. There is just something about the ring of steel."

"I'd like that." He replied, unsure of exactly what to say. "You're scary good!"

"Thank you, I've worked hard to be so. Now, I think you may soon have a chance to tell someone else how much you admire them. Good evening."

When the cluster finally dwindled, Ron stepped over to express his respect.

"That was some badical swordplay, Amika."

A smile brightened her face. "Domo, Stoppable-san. As they say, you are not so bad yourself."

"No, I was worse than bad." Her laugh caused him to shake his head vigorously. "I mean it, I tanked!"

"You were simply over matched." Takeshi joined them. "There is no shame in that. Without challenge there is no growth. Without adversity there is no challenge."

He bowed to Amika. "Give my regards to Professor Numuro and the Kendo Club."

"Of course." Amika returned his bow. "I must go now; I need to clean up before my biology lab. It is always a pleasure to see you, Stoppable-san."

"Yeah, a pleasure." The boy could not help but be a little distracted by her smile. When she left he turned to his coach.

"The Kendo Club?"

"Yes, Nagema-san is a member of both organizations. The Kendo Club holds competitions with clubs from other schools. Nagema-san is a most enthusiastic competitor. The Kendo Society is somewhat more unorthodox."

Ron agreed. "It kind of reminds me of what we did at…" A sharp jab to the ribs by Rufus brought Ron up short. "When! It reminds of what we did when our Sensei wasn't looking, heh heh."

Some memory brought a smile to Takeshi. "Ah, schoolboy antics. I am willing to say your Sensei was not as much in the dark as you may think. No doubt he has entertained others with stories of those shenanigans."

Ron and Rufus looked at each other, wondering what the Coach knew.

"The Kendo Club is an excellent organization, but we serve another purpose. As you will see in the coming weeks, the Kendo Society exists for those who seek to add a little more to their game."

WTOS

"All right, that's a wrap!" Crimson Cheer Captain Nancy Farmington shouted to the freshman squad. Harvard's newest cheerleaders gathered around her, among them stood a red headed bundle of energy.

"I wish we could've taken you guys with us to Cornell. Love the spirit. Really review the 'squid stuffing' routine; it should get the student section pumped up. Possible, tomorrow you'll be with us when we do our tour before the game."

"Me?" Kim asked. The varsity squad visited the alumni tail gating before games. She had hoped to avoid any semblance of favoritism. Winning over people was hard enough as it was.

Nancy shrugged. "It was a request from the Dean of Students."

"Some publicity stunt." Another freshman cheerleader, a pretty blond named Myna Payne sniffed.

"Hey, it's not my idea." Kim snapped.

"Everybody chill." Nancy said. "Kim's been nothing but school spirit."

The impish brunette Shelly Kidall spoke up. "I don't know, Captain. She could've gotten our team a Miskatonic playbook, with her sleeping with the enemy and all."

"Watch it!" A shower of pom poms doused the tweak. Kim settled for a playful rejoinder. "And why haven't you gotten us a playbook, Shelly? Your significant other isn't a Crimson."

"Swim teams don't have play books and Mount Holyoke doesn't have a football team."

"How about lacrosse or field hockey?" Now Kim got the laughs.

Their Captain spoke again. "Hit the showers! Meet here at ten a.m. sharp. When we do what?"

"BEAT MISKATONIC!"

Kim was as loud as anybody else.

WTOS

"So, you'll be able to stay on after the game?" Kim crossed her fingers.

"Rufus will take the uniform and gear back; he's an equipment manager. I've got a change of clothes. I'll just need a place to rest a little after the game."

Kim's voice grew breathy. "You can stay in my room. I've got liniment for sore muscles, some sports drinks to restore vital fluids…and a scrubber to get all of the crimson off your back after we shellac you guys tomorrow!"

"No way, KP! I'll be sure to bring the extra soft tissues. Don't want you to rub you face red when you witness Miski's mad football skills."

"Check your chin strap; it's cutting off the circulation to your brain." Kim joked. "Get some rest. Love you, Miski Man."

"Love you, Crimson Cutie."

A light rapping caused Ron to get up and head for the door. Imagining his running back coach on the other side he called out defensively. "Hey, I know it's time for…"

He was looking up when he opened the door. All he saw was the hallway. Then his eyes drifted down and beheld a wondrous sight.

Honey brown skin rose as Marie took a deep breath. The view provided by her low cut blouse was spectacular. He barely saw the daintily stitched words across her chest.

**Fair maiden? Sorry, neither!**

"Knockers out." Ron whispered. Shaking his head violently he corrected himself. "I mean, knock out, er, lights out! Yeah, lights out, heh heh. Hey, Marie."

"Good evening, Ronald." Her voice was husky. "Tomorrow is your first game for Miskatonic. I came by to wish you luck."

"Good luck." He laughed nervously, shutting the door behind him to stand out in the hallway with her. No one else was out, strange given the hour. "Thanks, Marie." Ron brought up his right hand and made a fist, extending it with the knuckles across. "This is how we did it at Middleton."

Marie smiled. "I think I like the way we did it at Delacroix better." Her right arm snaked up Ron's back and her hand pressed lightly against the back of his head. Her eyes closed and lips parted as she pulled him down.

Ron was too shocked to resist at first, and the instinct to pull back vanished the instant her lips touched his. His eyes went wide, went even wider when he felt her tongue press against his teeth. They parted without his willing it and their tongues entwined. His eyes closed when she moaned softly.

As that went on her left hand found its way under the back of his shirt. Her touch was cool, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. His left hand went to her waist but before he could push her away she deftly pushed him back into the door, lightly stunning him. Marie used the chance to press even closer against him. She took the hand off of his back and searched for the door knob. _Success! _It began to turn. And when she had him inside she would 'let' him discover what was missing under the skirt…

The sound of a door opening caused Marie to turn her head, losing contact with Ron's lips. When that happened the lights went back on in his brain. He jerked up. They looked to the sound.

Ron's RA moved his lips from side to side. "Ronnie boy, shouldn't you be in bed?"

"That was the idea." Marie growled under her breath. Her glare at Stanley would have wilted any mortal man. Stanley was unfazed. She huffed in his direction and turned back to Ron.

"Good night, Marie." The boy said hurriedly, as his mind reasserted itself.

"Good luck tomorrow." Ron tried to pull back as Marie ran a finger along his lips, but he was backed against his door. She turned and walked down the hall; Stanley went over and watched her leave. Once the door closed, he turned to Ron.

"I thought you guys were supposed to avoid that before a game, and if you are going to weaken your legs, shouldn't it be with Kim?"

"What? You think…NOOO!" Ron shook his head. "I mean, we're friends but…NOOO! I…and she…with the tonguing and… NOOOO!"

"It's okay." Stanley raised his hands. "Just remember what I told you a few days ago. Some girls…"

"Yeah, they aren't what they seem." Ron shuddered. "Kim…"

The RA put a hand on Ron's arm. "Don't go there. This is the modern world; guys aren't the only ones on the prowl. Just be more careful. Now, why don't you go get in bed? The team bus leaves for Cambridge pretty early."

"Thanks." Ron nodded eagerly and fumbled for the door knob. Stanley waited quietly for a while before retiring.

Once he was in his room Ron leaned against the wall. A trembling hand went up to his mouth. He pulled it back and stared. _She, she bit me!_

WTOS

Marie stalked down the steps of the dorm, ignoring the eyes popping as she swept by. She walked down the sidewalk and took the path between the buildings. Security warned against such dimly lit paths, but Marie had absolutely no fear of the dark. One wall was draped in ivy. The plant stirred when she stopped and turned to face it.

"That was quick." The leering voice was distorted, as though coming from an impossible distance and from an inhuman source. "I hope you weren't disappointed."

She glared at the mockery of a human form. Vines extended as if they were a hand. "Do you have what we want?"

It did not flinch when she spat into it. "Ahh, sweat. Sweat is precious. And blood, blood is precious. We can do much with this. But he would be under your complete control if you had brought us his…"

"If I had gotten that I would not need your help!" She lied. "Just take what I've given you and work your magic."

"Do not worry; all will be as you need." The vines returned to the wall.

The Cajun girl seethed. _That cursed Stanley! He was waiting, I know it! But that would not have been an issue if Ron had acted like any other boy. How did he find the strength to not pull me inside on first sight? _

_Kim. That Kim Possible, she is a peekon in my side! _

A smile spread across the pretty face: a dreadful, chilling grin. _But not after tomorrow._ She walked back to her dorm singing.

**Voulez, voulez, voulez, vous.**


	15. Chapter 15

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

My thanks to the reviewers: Isamu, Katsumara, screaming phoenix, CajunBear73, 176, King in Yellow, MrDrP, airwalker999, HecatonshiresLM, Michael Howard, BlueEyedBrigadier, bigherb81, aedan cameron and all the other readers. Sorry to have to call you all up so soon.

15. College Game Daze

Dr. Betty Director walked down the hallway of Global Justice's secret headquarters. The building was almost empty as it was a Saturday. While she liked her weekends as much as the next person, she felt it important that she work her share of them. This change from the past directors was one of the secrets to the respect given her by the GJ rank and file.

Her office had all the amenities that a harried administrator could (legally and ethically) ask for. She sat at her desk, watching the flip up television while waiting for the Team Possible Project to make its special report. Their transition from high school to college led to an entire new set of variables to account for. She turned off the DVR showing of Agony County (_There's just something about misunderstood jerks._) when she heard the knock.

"Enter."

The first group, charged with charting the career and prospects of Kim Possible, came in. Xaing Hai headed the group. Getting her from the Taiwanese Secret Service had been a real coup. Charlton Smythe Smith Smythe, not to be confused with the Smith Smythe Smiths, followed her. GJ's latest computer hot shot, Daman Patel, brought up the rear. They sat in the three chairs waiting for them. Xaing took the center seat.

A mousy looking man slipped in to take the chair by itself to Betty's right. Don Blaine was working solo on Ron Stoppable. The Ron Factor had long been discounted by Global Justice, and it had taken even less time to dismiss the Rufus Factor, but Dr. Director still felt it worthwhile to study the world's most famous sidekick.

"Good morning." Betty said in her direct manner. "I won't keep you long; I know how anxious some of you are to be at your screens." The others looked at Patel, whose alma mater, California Coastal, was kicking off in an hour. Good-natured smiles broke through the Saturday workday blahs.

She continued. "So, what do we have regarding Kim Possible, Dr. Xaing?"

"We've computed projections as you requested." The woman in the three person team began. "Kim Possible will most definitely graduate within four years. It would be three years, but we have to allow for villainous activity preventing her from taking additional courses. Chances of her graduating cum laude are ninety-seven percent, magna cum laude are seventy-eight percent, and summa cum laude are forty-nine percent. This, along with her stellar work outside the academic world and strength in standardized tests, makes her a shoe-in for HLS."

The men on either side of her snickered; the woman snarled in response. "By that we mean HARVARD LAW SCHOOL!" They straightened up under the glare of Betty's single eye. The woman continued. "Given her professed interest in International Law, I think we can expect great things."

A thought tickled Betty. _One word; three syllables… protégé_. "Thank you, Dr. Xaing. And what are the predictions regarding Mr. Stoppable?"

Everyone turned to the man seated off to the right. Don Blaine cleared his throat and began.

"When you consider the level of academic expectations at Miskatonic, it is quite favorable. He will graduate within five years…Val says that Kim Possible will tolerate nothing less."

"Val?" Dr. Director asked no one in particular.

"Dr. Blaine's computer, the Valerie 2000." Xaing answered. "It has taken over the task of Project Ron Factor."

"And it's too much for her!" Don snapped. "Anyway, it's not only certain he'll graduate, he has a twelve percent chance he'll graduate cum laude, with a two-percent chance of magna cum laude and point-o-three-percent chance of summa cum laude.

"What's more, Val has even explored Ron's athletic future at Miskatonic. There's a point two six-percent chance he'll make the All-American Team. I've checked the Vegas odds, and they peg it at 1750 to 1 against. If we all chip in just a little, we could possibly score big."

Xaing's eyes lit up. Charlton offered to put in a fiver. Dr. Director touched her fingertips to the secure drawer in her desk. She pulled a ten dollar bill out and handed it to Blaine. "You need to draw it all up, who put in how much, et cetera. We don't want anything like what happened when those Agency guys won the lottery."

"I'll do that." Blaine took the bills and stuffed them into his lab coat. He sighed.

"Don, what's the problem?" Dr. Director suppressed a sigh of her own.

"I, I think I need a new computer. Val seems to have broken down."

"How?" Xaing could not hide her interest. Some of Don's colleagues believed that it was his closeness to Val that led to his divorce rather than the other way around. Val's personality upgrades were legendary, if a bit disconcerting.

"Maybe I'll just let her tell you." Don pulled out a digital recorder. He pushed the play button and set it down on Dr. Director's desk. Dr. Director and the others listened to Val's chipper feminine voice as the computer exchanged pleasantries and dropped a hint about getting a new color keyboard before giving its predictions regarding Ron.

**Uh, Donnie honey? **The other four people in the room tried to keep a straight face.

**Yes, Val?**

**There's something else. Something I don't want to say. I don't want to think about it! But…but I can't let you or Ron down, honey.**

The distress in the computer's tone was obvious and disturbingly real.

**Go on, Val. What's Ron up to? **Don's effort at levity failed.

**It isn't Ron. **Val's perky voice vanished. **Forces are moving. Dark Forces. Forces with dark intent. Forces from beyond the night, from beyond sanity. Seas will boil. That which should never have been will be again. The quiet places will echo with shuffling feet. Insatiable hunger…dark…strange beyond…beyond…**

**Val, Val! What's wrong? **

There was a terrible grinding sound and Val spoke for the last time.

**Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.**

The five people looked at each other. Dr. Director spoke for them all. "Something must have gone wrong with the speech program when the hard drive shattered."

WTOS

The red brick house stood at the end of the mostly abandoned street. Once this had been an elegant neighborhood, but the old families were long gone, along with the parties that had once lit up the night sky. The remaining household made very modest demands on the local utilities, though recently it had had one particularly large trash pick up. Even that excited no comment since everything had been properly bagged and in the cans.

If the house was nondescript, the same could not be said of its occupant. Quinn McNamara was the kind of man who stirred the imagination of women. No one could miss the strength in his form. Lines in the handsome face hinted at a life far removed from that of most people. To complete the mystery, while agreeably in the autumn of life his age was indefinable. Somehow he seemed older than he looked.

If they only knew…

Quinn lit another cigarette while he stood in the cellar by a wine rack. Whenever she teased him about his smoking habit he reminded her of her taste for absinthe. That little exchange had been going on for quite some time.

_She'll be comin' back today. I know it._

Behind the shelves and the old bottles a tunnel snaked for miles down to a sea cave. Yidhra had taken her scout down there for debriefing; and as a reward. That was two weeks ago. During that time he had taken a flight to Dublin to distract his thoughts. The old haunts were long gone, of course. And the old men grousing about the young people bemoaning the recent economic downturn amused him to no end. ('They don't know how bad things were. Spoiled brats!')

_Your memories aren't so long either. You don't know how bad the English can be if you ne'er saw the red coats. Nor did any of you see the wagons takin' away the dead durin' the Great Famine. _

One such wagon took away his two wee ones, rendered too weak by hunger to fight off a simple chill. His Doreen pleaded that she was too distraught to attend the burial. Like a fool he had believed her. He came back to find her in the cottage. To this day he could not bear the sight of an exposed ceiling beam. Sympathetic as the priest was, Doreen still could not be buried with the children. Once he was finished at the crossroads he went in search of his own death.

_Instead I found you. I'm not kiddin' about your salvation. Who needs Heaven when there's eternity with you? Sure, it's a wee bit o' Perdition to see you wantin' another, but I know you ne'er forget a love. You're worth sharin'._

The wine rack rolled aside, revealing the beauty who owned him, mind, body and soul. She smiled and touched his cheek.

"I hope you hadna been waitin' here all this time, darlin'."

"No. I went back to the Old Country for a few days. It's nothin' like I remember."

"Then that's somethin' to be thankful for." Yidhra stood on tiptoe. They kissed deeply.

"Where is he?" Quinn asked, looking down the dark cave.

"Where is he ever when I'm not there to drag him away?" she asked, taking a tone usually reserved for frustrated wives whose husbands spend too much time playing golf. "I swear, he'll not be happy 'til he catches himself a Visigoth in those spider holes of his. Never mind that the brutes faded to obscurity in Iberia the better part of a millennium ago, but then there's a part of him that will always be standing guard at the gates of _Caput Mundi_."

She ran a finger along the silvery beard. "You're so very lucky, Quinn. You can still hop a plane and see Éire, awash in green and full of life. How many of the others could ever hope to see their homelands as anything more than scattered stone or tourist traps? Nikias will never look down on the waters of Mesogeios from the Pharos. Yosai still goes quiet when he thinks of Heian-kyo, the ghosts that never had his chance to escape it.

"Poor Zol can't even find his home on a map. When I met him, he was three days lost in the Nafud, the last survivor of a nameless tribe crushed under the heels of the Achaemenid's raiders."

Her youngest lover chuckled. "Did you always have a thing for the hard luck cases?"

"I've played consort to the high and the mighty. Some were called gods, some were gods. And you know what? They were all dull as dust. Give me someone who's lived the highs and lows. The boy's like a flower starved for the sun. Sure, she's peeking though the clouds at him today, but for how long? Soothin' your pains gave me pleasure; just like buildin' that dear boy up will please me. And doncha ya want me pleased?"

"More than anything." He answered huskily.

"Now, I've heard Gregorius' report. What'ere her powers be, she hides them well. She's smart; most witches that strong rely on their magic for everythin'. This girl knows a pretty face and well turned leg have a magic all their own. Now, has anythin' happened while I was gone?"

"Just this." He handed Yidhra a copy of the Arkham Globe, the sports section to be exact.

The dark blue eyes twinkled. "And it will be on her home ground; we might kill two birds with one stone. I need some fresh air…are ya up to takin' in a game today?"

WTOS

Early that same morning the Miskatonic football team started to board its buses for the two hour (if all went well) trip to Cambridge. As per tradition they wore slacks, oxford shirts, red ties and brown blazers. Takeshi approved of Ron's nod to the glory days with his older jacket.

Here and there players said goodbye to girlfriends. Whistles and catcalls accompanied every kiss. Ron just smiled.

_Guess I'll have to wait for the post game for any fireworks. Just hope our victory doesn't leave her cold. _Ron still had trouble grasping the concept that Kim would be cheering for the other team. Aside the few times when it had been boys against the girls on family game night, they had never been on opposing sides. He doubted he could ever get used to it.

Over at the next bus Rufus did a final inventory of the medical gear. He would go with the team this time; the Miskatonic bus system was much more flexible than the airlines.

He put his paw onto an ink pad and put his seal of approval on the paper.

After he wiped the excess ink off of his paw a little brown field mouse scurried over from the grass. Ron watched the two lean toward each other, whiskers twitching. It was a testament to the strangeness of his life that he didn't double take at the sight of two rodents kissing. The mouse took off for the bushes when Ron started to walk over. Rufus' pink cheeks reddened when Ron picked him up.

"Rufus, you old dawg! Why didn't you tell me you'd found somebody?"

"Hink! Sorry." The Naked Mole Rat shrugged. "Shy."

"There's no shame in your game, little dude. Invite her over some time for a little cheese and greet party. Give the old Ronster a chance to work his charm." The little guy settled into Ron's blazer pocket with a satisfied expression.

Coach Grizzard stalked over. "All right, everybody mount up!"

The offense boarded the bus. They rode together to give everyone one more chance to go over plays and plans. Of course few did. Mainly they made small talk about girls or classes. Ron stared out the window, eyes toward Cambridge.

_If I know Kim, she's getting ready right now. _

WTOS

Kim took another look in the mirror. _Crimson is most def my color. _She liked the styling too. The crop top came down a tad lower and there was no plunge in the skirt to expose her navel like in her old Mad Dog outfit. She could think of one father who would be most pleased with that.

Even with the game some four hours away she had been up for some time, stretching and going over the routines. Breakfast had been oatmeal with plenty of fruit. Sports drinks would be available on the field. Energy, as always, would be no problem.

She let the shiver of anticipation run through her. Unlike some cheer leaders, she enjoyed the games themselves. Competition was competition and she could never be faulted for failure to support her school. Soon she would be on the sidelines again, waving her pompoms as the Crimson took to the field. When she saw Ron she'd…

_Do nothing. Can't blow a kiss to the other team. _Full lips pulled in from disappointment. Kim and Ron had always been close. Even in those elementary years when boys and girls professed undying enmity. The thought that they could ever be on opposing sides had never really occurred to her. Zorpox was the product of a mishap. But this. All the teasing they had given each other in past weeks could not hide the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

_Maybe a little wave. No, too obvious. Too bad we never worked out a set of hand signals. C'mon, Possible, think. _

Kim was still thinking over her problem as she walked to the meeting area. She was the first freshman there and third person overall. Everyone else was there by ten: there was no such thing here as being fashionably late.

Nancy Farmington motioned for silence. "All right, everyone, it's ten. Kickoff's at twelve-thirty. We've got two hours to mingle with the crowd before we hit the field. Freshman squad, you take the student body. Varsity, we've got the alumni. Remember, be friendly to everybody."

Shelly Kidall shouted. "Flirt fiercely, Harvard!"

"Flirt! Flirt! Flirt!" came the response.

The cheer captain pointed at her red headed frosh. "Remember, Kim you're with us until noon."

"I'm on it!" Kim's 'mission mode' expression elicited laughter from the squad. The poor girl's cheeks burned.

"Okay that's enough!" Nancy sounded like the educator she was training to be. "Now that we're finished playing junior high, let's fire up Fair Harvard!"

WTOS

All did go well, almost suspiciously well, for the Miskatonic bus convoy. Traffic was light; they made it through every light and arrived at Harvard Stadium at precisely nine a.m. Ron gaped through his window.

"Rufus, our first college stadium…and we're playing! This is so cool!"

Ron's littlest friend stuck his head out from the jacket pocket. "Hink! Harvard, grrrrr."

Ron was scandalized. "Rufus! That's not how a Miski Man behaves. Remember, this is KP's school."

"Sorry." The contrition was genuine.

"No harm, little dude. Oh, man! I forgot to bring an old sock for you to wear. It's cool out there. You think you could get a team towel…"

Rufus dove back into the pocket. He reemerged wearing a Miskatonic sweater. Ron recognized it from his sister's toys. The hairless rodent's wardrobe came courtesy of School Spirit Picture Perfect Prince. "Ta da!"

"All right, Rufus! You da Miski Man!"

The bus' doors opened and the players filed out. The cheer squad stood waiting along with some of the Miskatonic faithful. Ron smiled at and exchanged high fives with the well wishers until he came up to a particular, and peculiar, Creole beauty.

Marie's chin was on her chest. She looked up sheepishly. "Ronald, I'm so sorry about last night. I'm afraid I let myself get carried away."

"It's all right." He replied slowly. While not one to hold (too) many grudges, Ron was also not one to ignore when somebody crossed the line and Marie had crossed all sorts of lines the night before.

"I remember your Kimberly at the Nationals last spring. She was so taken with you. It would be wrong to try to come between that."

"You got that right."

Marie winced at his words. "Again, I am sorry. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday."

"Rabbi Katz always said a grudge is too heavy a load to carry." The boy said with a touch of softness.

"Oh, merci! Merci! I would hug you now, but I promise to never again try to draw your hand from your Kimberly's warm grasp." The honey skinned girl flashed Ron a smile. "Bonne chance, Ronald! I know you will be tres magnifice today."

"Er, thanks." Coach Grizzard's glare gave Ron his excuse. "Gotta go suit up. Bye, Marie."

The substitute running back walked on. He glanced down at his jacket pocket and its stewing occupant. "What do you think, Rufus?"

"Grrrrr! Bad road! Bad road!"

Ron nodded. "Right with you, little buddy. Not looking forward to those two meeting again. Something tells me that you don't want to see Marie in a cat fight either."

The two entered the visitor's locker room. Meanwhile Marie continued to greet and encourage other players. Her smile grew and grew.

_Ah, Ronald. It was kind of you to accept my apology. Tonight you will accept my condolences, and in a week or so…Huh huh huh!_

WTOS

It was an hour before kickoff and the tailgating was in full swing. Kim's experience with tailgating was limited to the annual trip to Upperton for UU's homecoming. Now she beheld a completely different animal. Many tablecloths were of the finest linen. Some had crystal and china service sets. And the menu offered them by the alumni went far beyond the usual grilled hot dogs and hamburgers.

"Come on." Nancy said. "Time to see the Howells."

Folding leather chairs sat behind the limousine. Their occupants waved at the coming cheer squad. To their right was a Range Rover, its rear opened to provide what the chef at the grill required.

Mr. Thurston Howell welcomed them. "Good morning, girls! I fail to see your male counterparts."

"They're over with a couple of old football players. You can't say 'no' to Tommy Lee." The cheer captain explained.

The heir to the world's most famous ship wrecked billionaire grinned. "Who's complaining? I hope you girls haven't filled up yet. Philippe has been waiting. You just can't top foi gras seared in a cast iron skillet over hot coals."

Philippe produced a sliver tray bearing hot delicacies resting on slices of fresh baguettes. Kim inhaled deeply; even before they were dating Ron had shared his culinary skills with her. The taste reminded her of the picnic by the lake, and all that that entailed. _Maybe tonight we can pick up where we left off there._

"Ah, Kimberly." The Howells hugged her after she finished her snack. Mrs. Howell took her by the arm.

"I hear your beau is with Miskatonic's team."

"Yes, Mrs. Howell. They called him up after last week's game with Haysville."

"Well, at least he's not a Yale Man." Mr. Howell said graciously. Then he smiled at the squad. "We'll see you all inside as we cheer Fair Harvard to victory."

A voice cut through the crowd. "Kimmie dear, over here!" Savannah Venable waved. She stood with the Honeys along with a well dressed crowd in front of a combination RV/field kitchen. Dozens of people now beckoned the cheer squad over.

"Come on, Kim. Let's go see your roomie." Nancy led the squad over.

Kim stewed inwardly. _Yeah, let's show off the trained pony. The Varsity squad looks down on me, and now the freshman squad will see me as the Varsity pet. Just great. _But like a good cheer leader, it was all smiles on the outside, even though senses honed by a hundred missions told her something was up.

Harvard's newest Venable could not hide her pride. "Kim, let me introduce you to my parents. "This is my mother; Donna Hazeltine Venable."

The woman with Savannah looked more like an older sister. _Summer Gayle could use a referral to her plastic surgeon. _"Pleased to meet you; we were tickled pink when we learned that our little Savannah's room mate would be none other than the world famous Kim Possible."

Kim was used to this sort of reception. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Venable. Savannah's been a real friend"

"I'm so happy to hear that. Being away from home for the first time can be hard."

She had traveled the world over many times, but Kim had never spent more than a week away from home at a cheer camp. Even with Ron nearby the adjustment was proving more difficult than she would have believed possible. As baffling and as vexing as she could be, Savannah had done her best to make Kim feel welcome. "It is."

"And here comes Big Daddy." Savannah smiled.

Kim's hand vanished into an enormous hand belonging to an equally imposing man. He wore a tailor made shirt under his Harvard Athletics blazer. The shirt was necessary given his build. He had the look of a middle aged man reclaiming his youthful physique through a combination of stringent diet and rigorous exercise. His look also conveyed that he had permission to ditch the diet for the day.

"Kimberly Ann Possible!" His drawl conveyed his delight. "It is such an honor to meet one of the world's bright young heroines."

"Ah, I'm not all that." Kim averred. "Team Possible is just that: a team. I wouldn't be anything without Ron and Wade and Rufus."

Big Daddy was having none of that. "It may be a team, but you're the founder and captain. You set the tone! And I'm much more aware of your impact than the average citizen. Your efforts merit more than the occasional headline."

Several people stood behind Big Daddy and others came up behind her. She recognized the Dean of Students at their head. Members of the Harvard Media Department trained cameras on them all.

"Dr. Forager." Savannah's father addressed the Dean. "Southern Life and Casualty would like to donate this check, for the sum of $250,000, to the General Scholarship Fund in the name of Kimberly Ann Possible in recognition of her unique contributions to all our lives."

The Dean's hand rested on one corner of the check in front of Kim. She followed his eyes and put her fingers on the bottom it and joined the two men in smiling at the cameras.

"Nice schill." Halle snarked from her place to the right of the scene. "She saves your Dad's company billions in claims, they donate a pittance to Harvard, get a photo op and a tax deduction."

Savannah shook her head. "Stop bein' such a wet blanket. Harvard's endowment took a big hit last year. Every quarter million helps. Big Daddy's just bein' a good corporate citizen."

Kim smiled her cheerleader smile as the cameras rolled. Part of her resented being put on the spot like this, but $250,000 was a lot of money and could help a lot of students. So she smiled and thanked everyone when the cameras went off. The Dean shook her hand.

"Thank you, Ms. Possible. I hope we didn't make you too uncomfortable."

"No prob, Dean. I'm glad to help." _Just don't make a habit of this. _

Big Daddy shook her hand again, a little less forcefully this time. "Thanks for comin' by. Maybe after the game you can bring your Miski Man over: Mr. Ron Droppaball, isn't it?

Teeth ground together. "It's Stoppable."

The big man laughed. "I'm just funnin' with you, Sugah. That and I'm givin' a nudge to the Fan Upstairs. Your Ron isn't slated to play but he backs up Simmons, and that boy took a nasty hit last week. He could be fragile today."

"Well, I know Ron came to play." Kim's animosity faded. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Venable."

"Please, just call me B.D. And don't be a stranger. Feel free to come down with Savannah anytime for a visit. We'll spring for the ticket."

"Uh, thanks."

"You're welcome, Sweetie. I think your Captain's callin'."

"Bye, Kimmie." Savannah waved. Her mother and the Honeys joined in.

Kim waved back. The cheer squad made its way to the stadium. Her green eyes lit up.

_I've got it!_

The ticket booth had been surprisingly busy. It was the first home game of the season of course, and all stereotypes aside, the first home game stirred the hearts of Ivy League fans just like it did anyone else. And the Class of '84 was there for its 25th anniversary, giving another bump in attendance, along with others who wanted to witness another sort of history. When the leaves change color people hear their alma mater whisper in the autumn breeze.

Other factors swelled the crowd. Human Magazine's Most Intriguing Person for 2008 was cheering in her first college game, with her longtime friend now boyfriend playing for the visitors. Visiting dignitaries seldom drew this much press coverage.

Miskatonic also had a boost to its ranks. Coach Takeshi was a news story in and of himself; having broken a barrier few had even dreamed would ever fall. Japan's East Coast Press Corps was on hand. Curious Japanese expatriates came in droves. They bought their tickets and filed in politely, but their colorful furled banners hinted at their repressed excitement.

Another couple walked up to the booth. The man had the look of a sea captain: ruggedly handsome. As for the woman…

"I said two please." The man's rich Irish brogue brought the ticket vender back to earth. He gave the younger man a smile. _I know, laddie, I know._

"Home or visitors?" the vender asked when his wits returned.

The walking, talking dream answered. "Visitors. We have a dear heart on the Miskatonic team."

They took their tickets and headed for the turnstiles. Yidhra took in a deep breath.

"Ah, Quinn. Cinna ya smell the magic in the air?"

WTOS

That magic touched Ron in the locker room waiting for Takeshi to make the pre-game speech. Now a true freshman, he was suited up and ready to play. He had started in every football game he had played in; riding the pine would be a new, and not very welcomed, experience. _Hopefully I can get in a little Kim watching between plays. The way those skirts go up when she jumps… _

Rufus misread Ron's smile. He gave his owner a thumbs up from the managers' post. Ron returned the gesture.

The players' conversations stopped when the Coach entered. Takeshi entered, his face set. He mounted the stand and gave what Ron knew was an abbreviated bow of respect to his players. Ron and an Anthropology student returned the gesture; the others showed their respect with their full attention.

"Gentlemen." The Coach began. "When you return to the field I am certain you will notice an unusual media presence. Most of you probably think it is due to my presence, or perhaps to the debut of a certain cheerleader on the other side of the field."

At that the players around Ron gave him playful taps to his shoulders. Takeshi smiled for a moment. "There is another reason, a reason that some of you may not be aware of. But first a little background.

"Harvard began intercollegiate play on June 4th 1875. At that game they were the first squad to appear in a team uniform. This was not their only innovation. At first football was a game between neighboring schools, but in 1881 Harvard hosted Michigan, when they defeated the Wolverines."

Takeshi's voice dripped with disdain. "And those are only two of Harvard's many firsts. The first spring practice, the first score board, the first concrete stadium, the largest such structure at the time, all of these trappings of the semi-pro league collegiate football has become originated here.

"Nor is Harvard unfamiliar with victory. In 1886 Harvard began its season by crushing Exeter 156 to nothing, the highest score ever in the highest scoring season of any team ever! Your opponent today boasts eight Ivy League titles, a Rose Bowl victory and seven national championships! Today their fans have gathered to watch their team seek its eight hundredth victory; an unprecedented number in our division. Many schools have not played that many games."

The players stood mesmerized. Their Coach faced them with blazing eyes. "You will deny them that victory! Today you stand for all who believe in the proper balance of scholastic achievement and athletic competition! Come, let's show this…this…football factory!"

Miskatonic crowded into the tunnel, their cleats clacking on the ancient concrete. They could hear the Harvard crowd roar when their team took to the field. Ron had played at a larger stadium, and before larger crowds, during the Colorado State Championships, but he was still swept up in the heady spirit of college football.

On the other side of the field, Kim also took in the atmosphere. She was a creature of competition and she was in her element. Scholastic giant that it may be, Harvard still could pin back its ears and pitch into the scrum. She waved her pompoms and cheered the Crimson racing onto the field.

Next she turned slightly. The freshman squad stood across from where the Miskatonic would enter the stadium. Kim watched and readied herself. He would come out in a moment and she would flash him what would become their sign.

Excitement rose in the tunnel. Once he was satisfied, Takeshi nodded to his staff and started forward. Grizzard bellowed the call taken up by the team behind him.

"MISKATONIC!"

The Fighting Cephalopods poured onto the field. Kim caught sight of number 37. She slipped her right pompom under her arm and prepared to signal her Miski Man. Her smile was dazzling, her eyes danced.

Ron ran onto the field, looking over to sideline in front of the Harvard student section. _She'll be there. _Just when he caught sight of crimson skirts someone passed in front of him.

_Here he comes. _Kim started to bring her hand up. Suddenly a Miskatonic cheer leader was in front of Ron. Like any other squad, Miskatonic's ran in front of their team as it took to the field. Marie LaTreau picked up speed. She was between Kim and Ron. Her smile was knowing, infuriating. The Creole beauty extended one arm and pulled the other back, calling attention to certain assets. Her taunt was impossible to miss.

Kim's smile became a snarl. Fists clinched at her sides. Her shoulders bunched up.

_L'victorie. _Marie ran even faster, joining the cheer line. Now Ron could see his Kim in full tweak.

_Gee, she's in full blown mission mode over this game. _He watched her. In doing so he failed to notice his teammates pulling up to cluster around their coach. BONK! Ron's helmet struck the one worn by the player in front of him. CRACK! The man's head pitched forward and hit another player. Ron watched the man in from of him sway for a moment before he collapsed. Coaches and trainers pushed their way through the players to get to the fallen man.

It was Simmons.

"Yappari."Takeshi growled. He did not need a trainer to read Simmons' unfocused eyes for him. "Another concussion! That's it, you're sitting this one out, Simmons-san."

Mentally Ron shrank from ten feet to ten inches tall. "Dude, my bad!"

Simmons looked up at Ron and mumbled. "It's okay. I was in the way. It had to happen."

Takeshi's frown deepened. "Stoppable-san, you will play in Simmons' place. I expect no more mistakes!"

"Hai!" Ron shouted before thinking. The Coach let it go without comment.

Takeshi stood and let the EMTs help Simmons onto a golf cart. "Pressive-san, take the co-captains onto the field. It is time for the coin toss."

Harvard won the toss and elected to defer to the second half. The announcer's voice rang out over the speakers.

**A last minute change in the Miskatonic line-up. Sean Simmons has left the field. Taking his place is Ron Stoppable from Middleton, Colorado.**

On the other sideline, Kim almost cheered. Shelly gave her a wink. The squad rolled their pompoms as the kicker trotted up to the ball.

"Go, Crimson!"

From his spot just inside the end zone Ron watched the ball arc toward him. Expertly kicked, it stalled in the air and hit at the fifteen. He rushed forward and caught it on the first bounce. A Crimson came flying at him. Ron neatly sidestepped the defender, who hurtled past him. Up ahead the Miskatonic wall collided with the Harvard coverage. At the last instant Ron cut to the inside.

**Stoppable catches the ball at the ten. McClure just misses him. He's up to the wall, he slips past! Kyzinsky misses. Stoppable jumps over Breton. He's to the thirty-five! The forty! The forty five! He's at midfield! He's down! The kicker, Gonzalez saved the touchdown with a shoe string tackle! Miskatonic will start on the Harvard forty-seven yard line courtesy of Stoppable's forty-three yard return. A great first play for the true freshman. **

Martin Pressive bounded onto the field. He joined Steve in giving Ron a hearty slap on the shoulder pads. The quarterback smiled in the huddle. "Let's try the outside. Strong sweep on two."

Ron lined up to Pressive's right. He took off at the snap and locked up a defensive back.

**Pitch to the fullback Christensen. He picks up a block from Stoppable. The defense comes up. Four yard gain on the play.**

The next play went off tackle and Miskatonic found itself facing third and three.

**Miskatonic has two wide outs. Stoppable's in motion, Grierson follows him for the Crimson. Here's the snap. Linebacker blitz! Pressive dumps off to Stoppable. He's up the middle…pulled down by the strong safety Mason after a twelve yard gain.**

On the sidelines an auburn haired Crimson cheer leader yelled for the defense. _Watch out, Ron. _Then she thought of her own team. _Watch out for Ron. _

**First and ten on Harvard's twenty-eight. It's a roll out. Pressive looks to Stoppable. He stops and throws across the field! The half back Kimmel is open on the three. Touchdown, Miskatonic!**

The visitors' section erupted in cheers. The expatriates waved their colorful banners. Takeshi paid scant attention to them, except for a set of small placards. He nodded and returned his thoughts to the field. Cheers renewed when the extra point sailed through the uprights.

A male cheerleader leaned over and spoke as softly as possible to Kim. "Your boyfriend already has fifty-five all-purpose yards. He's good."

"He sure is, Bill." She replied, a little more firmly than she had intended to.

Bill grinned. "Don't worry, this sort of thing happens every few years. No tragedies yet."

**Tolbert's point after attempt is good. With 12:03 remaining in the first quarter it's Miskatonic seven, Harvard nothing.**

Next Tolbert put his kickoff through the back of the end zone. Harvard started on its own twenty. Soon the Crimson offense showed its metal, grinding out yards and first downs. The freshman cheer squad echoed the varsity chant.

**Drive the ball,**

**Drive the ball,**

**Drive the ball onward.**

**Drive for the score, Fair Harvard,**

**Make it eight hundred!**

_Never let an English major write cheers_. Kim shook her head along with her pompoms.

**So far the straight ahead tactics are working for the Crimson. It's third and one on the Miskatonic thirty-three. The Coach has the short yardage backfield and two tight ends. Miskatonic has every defender in the box, I think Takeshi might slip in the Miskatonic brass section. Here's the snap. McGivers pitches to Stearns…Stearns drops back! The throw is to the tight end Thomas! He's to the five! Touchdown, Harvard!**

It was just like it had been at Middleton: the crowd cheered, the band played the school fight song, the cheerleaders jumped up and down. Two things were different; Kim was lifted into the air by a male cheerleader, and Ron was on the other side line.

_He's looking up her skirt, I know it! _Ron snapped on his helmet to join the receiving unit. They listened to Takeshi.

"You know what you can do. Trust yourselves, trust each other." Ron turned to leave but Takeshi caught him by his face mask and pulled the boy's face up to his own.

"If you trust her, he does not matter."

_How did he know? _A calmer Ron trotted out to take his place at the end zone.

_I was young once. _Miskatonic's head coach looked back up to stands. Placards flashed again, relieving one set of worries. For now he could concentrate on the kickoff.

Takeshi was not the only person to notice Ron's jealous glare. In the Miskatonic stands a brown haired beauty snuggled up closer to the man sharing a brown and red blanket with her.

"See, Quinn darlin'? He canna help but see how others look at her. This may be easier than I thought."

The rugged Irishman nodded. "Aye, you might even have the truth on your side."

They kicked away from Ron the second time. The Crimson defense had also adjusted. Ron found himself constantly confronted with a speedy defensive back. He picked up yards on short passes and runs but was unable to break into the open for another big play. Still Pressive used the change to his advantage. But while the Crimson defense bent, it would not break.

**At the end of the half it's tied at seven.**

The teams filed into their respective locker rooms. Each school's band scrambled onto the field in their turn. Cheer squads also watched their opposites perform. One honey blond Miskatonic girl could not hide her predatory smile after seeing the way her auburn haired rival spun from her stand on a man's hands and into his arms.

_Ah, so chaste, so pure. He is most respectful. It would be so easy for him to drop you like that and then…_

Harvard came out in the second half hungry. They took the ball relentless down the field in the opening drive to take the lead. Further half time adjustments shut down Miskatonic's passing game without leaving them vulnerable to the run.

**It's third and long. The Crimson defense really has shut Pressive down. If it weren't for that fumble recovery and field goal, the Cephalopods would have nothing to show for in the third quarter. The Miskatonic quarterback has to be feeling the pressure. Here's the snap. Pressive drops back. He looks deep but Stoppable's in double coverage. Fontaine's bearing down on him. Pressive goes to his second choice…intercepted! Jenkins is racing down the sideline! Nobody's going to catch him! He's to the twenty! Ten! Touchdown, Harvard!**

**We're three quarters done here with the score, Harvard twenty-one, Miskatonic ten.**

Pressive glowered from the sideline. Takeshi mastered his own anger before approaching his quarterback.

"You have time enough to rectify your mistakes. Patience will be rewarded." The quarterback's expression caused him to change his tone. "If you find that too much like a fortune cookie, we can still win this one. However, you will not make it up in one play."

**Stoppable has the kickoff again. He starts on the three. That boy is fast! Barton can't get him. Don't worry, fans, we've got more. McClure, Grierson and Johnson combine for the tackle. Still Miskatonic starts on its own twenty-six, a twenty-three yard return.**

"Come on, stop them!" Kim shouted encouragement to her team. This time though Pressive would not be denied.

**Second and goal for the Cephalopods. Pressive checks off. Looks like he's changing the play. It's a good old-fashioned option! He turns up; the Crimson defense** **is out of position. Touchdown, Miskatonic! Tolbert's kick is good! Harvard clings to a twenty-one to seventeen lead here in the early fourth quarter.**

The next ten minutes dragged on, if you were for Harvard, or flew by if your loyalties lay with Miskatonic. Now the brown and red was heading for what was surely the final series.

And someone else was also preparing a final strike. Marie LaTreau slipped a little wax doll with red hair out of her sweater on the ground and slid over to her megaphone. She made sure to yell to the team like the others. Right now everyone was too caught up in the end game drama to practice a routine. The time was perfect.

Kim stood again on Bill's hands. For the third time she brought up a large sign with the letter 'D'. Shelly held out her hands and Kim let the cardboard fall. Bill's bent his elbows and Kim flew up into the air. She spun and came down.

At the same moment Marie wiped a bit of lotion on her doll.

Bill's face registered shock when Kim slipped right through his hands and landed hard on his feet. He did not notice the broken toe in his embarrassment and concern. The boy knelt to the girl literally at his feet.

"Kim, are you all right?"

Up in the Miskatonic stands Yidhra shook her head. "You see that, Quinn? What a school girl ploy. I don't care if she's flirtin' with that boy, or settin' herself up for some sympathy from Ron later, it's just so childish!"

Marie took out her other props. The length of yarn was tied to her pen at one end; the other supported a proper noose. Making sure no one was paying attention; she slipped it over the doll's head and slid it down into the megaphone. Then she gently set the megaphone upright.

_I should have dropped it in when I made you fall, how careless of me! Still, broken neck or strangled, it's still the same._

_Careful much? _The caustic thought remained hidden by the cheerleader code: save complaints for off the field. Kim started to raise her hand to take Bill's offer of assistance. "I'm fine, Bill. It's no…"

Something chocked off the last word, and her breath. Kim's hand went to her throat, seeking whatever was causing the tightening pressure.

Bill started to smirk. "No need to get snarky. Kim?"

Kim had both hands at her throat. Her face contorted. She could not speak now. Bill was alarmed now. "Medic!"

On the other side line by the wall Marie smiled. The yarn swayed back and forth and spun around. In another minute or so the motion would be minute, lazy, merely the effect of the Earth's rotation upon a lifeless wax doll.

Bill looked up for help. He started to shout again when two Cambridge EMTs pushed their way through the knot of concerned cheerleaders. One was Asian, the other Native American. The latter shouted. "Give us room!"

The two worked feverishly, aware of how little time they had. For the moment Kim still had the presence of mind to try to lie still. The Native American made a quick check of Kim's neck and chest.

"It's not here."

The Asian's eyes narrowed. She tilted Kim's head back. No one could see the sharp round blade slip out from her sleeve. The hand pulled back to deliver what the woman hoped would be a saving blow.

Marie's eyes glowed with triumph. The yarn was barely moving now.

In the Miskatonic stands another pair of eyes flashed. "Why the little minx." Yidhra seethed. "Pretendin' to be hurt while readying a death spell! She'll learn; I was counterin' such spells before she had an ape to descend from."

The Dream Witch leaned forward. Words from a language that had fallen out of use before man learned to shape bronze passed her full lips. If anyone could have translated them, they would have read something like this. "Double back. Double strong."

Marie fell to one knee. Already her head was tilting and her tongue protruding. Desperately she slapped the megaphone over and the pain stopped as suddenly as it began. She looked around to see if anyone was watching before she retrieved the doll.

Kim jerked up before the woman could perform her tracheotomy. Cool, wonderful air flooded her lungs. The EMTs melted back into the background and Harvard's team doctor took over. He felt her neck and looked down her throat.

"There's no trauma. Something must have come back up on you and blocked your wind pipe. I'm surprised it doesn't happen more often."

"It happened after I dropped her." Bill all but wailed. "I'm sorry, Kim."

"Not your fault." Kim spoke softly, her throat sore. "I've fallen lots of times, part of the biz. This was just freaky bad luck."

The doctor agreed. "These things happen, son. Now, Kim, isn't it? I'm going to send for the cart."

Kim shook her head. "I'm staying."

"Suit yourself." The doctor looked at the freshman cheer captain. "All she does is sit and watch."

"Got it." Ima Reisen nodded. "Kim, take a seat."

The red head grumbled but sat down.

Yidhra smiled at the still drawn and pale face. She made a gun of her hand and brought her index finger up to her lips and blew. "I've still got it."

Very few other people noticed the drama on the side line. Most of the audience sat on the edge of their seats, watching the game near its climax.

**Miskatonic is down to its last gasp. Their drive has stalled. It's fourth and seven on the Crimson thirty-three with seven seconds to go. They have to get it into the end zone. Takeshi has called his last time out. He's got his offense over on the side line.**

The Coach looked at his men. "It all comes to this last play. They know we will pass; it is for us to know to whom. Trust each other, for who are we?"

"MISKATONIC!"

**Here comes Miskatonic. Kimmel's the lone set back. Pressive is in the shot gun. **

_It won't hurt to watch. _Quiet as a mouse, Kim stood up and walked over to the side line for a better view. No one noticed her.

Ron stood just behind the line of scrimmage, his eyes glued on Pressive. The All-Ivy League quarterback lifted his left foot; indicating the snap was three calls away. The freshman running back willed himself to remain motionless.

**Here's the snap. It's a four man rush. Pressive looks for anyone open but the Crimson has everyone covered. The pocket's collapsing! **

Ron took off at the snap. At five paces he faked a turn to the outside. The defender bought it and before he could recover Ron turned on the speed and cut back across the field.

**Zimmermann has Pressive at the knees. He's going down…he throws!**

If the ball had its usual zip, it would have been a sure touchdown. It was all Pressive could do to get the ball away before he crashed to the ground. Bending over, Ron caught the wobbly ball. It cost him two steps. His defender dove for him.

**Petrie misses by an inch! **

He had the inside linebackers beat. Another pair came up, only to be plowed over by Steve in a devastating (yet perfectly legal) block. The goal line beckoned.

Kim saw it all unfolding. It was the last play. The game was on the line and the ball was in Ron's hands. Everything was just as it should be. The pain was forgotten. Her natural Kimness took over. She came up as close as allowed to the sideline. Her face shone with excitement. She pointed at her Ron and shouted.

"Get him! GET HIM!!!!!"

Ron raced down the sideline. He saw her. _Kim. _She was beautiful. He could hear her.

"GET HIM!!!!!"

Ron's mind reeled. _What? Is she chipped again? _He had heard 'get him' plenty of times before. Usually the hand pointing at him wore black gloves, though one particularly nasty pair sported tufts of black hair. Kim had come after him once, under Drakken's control, but that time her eyes were vacuous. These green orbs were as determined as he had ever seen.

_She wants me to fail? But we're Team Possible! Team. Right. I'm on one team and she's cheering for the other. It's like something in a movie! I've got to score…the buzzer's gone off, there's no time left. But if we win will Kim still like me? But she'd never want me to lose on purpose. But if I win she loses and Kim doesn't lose. But…But…But…_

"Man, love and sports are complicated!"

They were also distracting. In his befuddlement Ron lost a precious step. Miskatonic's other receivers had the safeties locked up away from the play. A defensive back took a desperate leap. Sensing the defender, Ron twisted away from the hurtling body, and lost his balance.

**Stoppable's at the ten, the five. McClure makes a dive at him. Stoppable's losing his balance! He's ou…no, he's spinning but still in bounds…**

With no hope of regaining his balance, Ron spun along the sideline. He threatened to topple over with each footfall, but somehow he did not fall. The very air seemed to hold him up. This air lacked the crisp coolness of the day. Something about it reminded Ron of the many pools of superheated noxious concoctions he and Kim had been suspended over through the years. The feeling ended when he just missed the pylon and broke the plane.

**Touchdown, Miskatonic! Sorry, folks, no eight hundredth win today. Stoppable nixed that with a thirty-three yard touchdown reception. The final score: Miskatonic twenty-three, Harvard twenty-one.**

The man who had spoiled Harvard's day lay face down in the end zone. His teammates picked him up. One handed him an ecstatic Rufus.

"Hey, little buddy, we won!"

"Hink! Victory!" Rufus cheered.

They soaked in the thrill until they looked past their fellow players.

Kim wore a wistful smile. She slid a sign bearing '800' back into its slip case. The smile faded when she turned to walk away with the rest of her squad.

WTOS

Slim fingers drummed on crossed arms. The toes of the right foot tapped on the concrete floor outside the visitors' locker room. Waiting had never been one of Kim's strong suits, and the world famous girl of action stewed. If wishing made it so, the press conference would have ended long ago.

The news crews were finally leaving. They recognized her and she answered some innocuous questions. Sure, she hated that her school lost, but there were more important things. And her Ron had scored the winning touchdown so she was happy for him. Ron, not Don, you were in there, right? Not Martin Pressive, Ron Stoppable!

Several Japanese media representatives exited. One seemed familiar, so did her camera man. They hurried past. Minutes later a knot of players and coaches walked past. Some gave her nods, most were just in a hurry to finally get away. One equipment manager stopped long enough for Rufus to give her a hug.

Three more men came out of the locker. Ron was talking with Takeshi and Pressive. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

"KP! I want you to meet my Coach and Quarterback."

"Pleased to meet you." She shook their hands.

The quarterback flashed a football hero smile. "You're prettier in person." Kim's smile grew when she saw a hint of jealousy in Ron's eyes. Her arm went around his.

"It is an honor to meet you." Takeshi bowed slightly. "To use a tired but true phrase, I have heard much about you."

"And I've heard a lot about you. You're an unusual coach." Her inflection brought a little smile to Takeshi's lips. _Message delivered._

"Never be normal. That includes my athletic life." Her boyfriend crowed.

Takeshi cleared his throat. "Pressive-san, I believe we are done here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Kim Possible."

When they were alone Kim shuffled her foot. "Sorry I didn't run over and give you a victory kiss but you know, opposing teams…"

"It would have been awkwierd." Ron agreed. "Not for us, you know, but for everyone else. I've got my team blazer; you're in your cheer sweater. Is it still too…"

Kim pulled him down for a kiss. Ron's eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped her up in his arms. She pressed against him like she wanted to crawl inside him. Her kiss was hungry. The thought crossing his mind was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

_Is it tonight?_

Those thoughts vanished when he opened his eyes and saw her face.

"Ron, we need to talk."

WTOS

James Possible was for the most part a man of the mind. The only team he had ever been on was his high school Quiz Bowl. (Regional Champions!) Partly to build bridges with the Board of Directors, (Dr. Wong aside, that little dinner party had ruffled feathers yet to smooth back down) and partly out of curiosity, he had joined the office fantasy college league. It had proven interesting, and aggravating. He changed the channel to learn about this week's defiance of mathematical certainty.

**Welcome back to Sports Centered, I'm Octavian Cerleth and with me is Benny Lutner. Now for a visit to the Ivy League, where Harvard sought its eight hundredth victory at the expense of conference rival Miskatonic. **

**Well, Oct, Miskatonic quarterback Martin Pressive had something to say about that. And he certainly was impressive today, going twenty for twenty-four with two touchdowns and an interception. **

**Plus he had some help in the form of activated true freshman Juan Wrappable.**

**That's Ron Stoppable, Oct.**

James called to the kitchen. "Honey, they're talking about Ron on Sports Centered."

"Really?" The one and only star of James Possible's favorite indoor sport stuck her head into the doorway.

"Come on." He patted the seat next to him. "They'll have some highlight footage."

The lovely red head snuggled up to her husband. Blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Go, Ron."

Her husband pulled her and teased. "Now, dear, there will be no rooting for Kim's school's foe."

After showing the kickoff returns and the gravity defying touchdown run it was back to the announcers.

**I know the name's Stoppable, Ben. What a lot of head coaches will be asking their recruiting coordinators tonight is why ****they ****didn't know his name. This boy had a stellar senior year in Colorado yet was not contacted by anybody but Miskatonic. Takeshi proved here that he can really pick them.**

**So can Stoppable. A network affiliate was taking some post game footage when they saw this play in progress.**

The Drs. Possible let go of each other. They sat on the edge of the couch, eyes and mouths wide open.

**Yes, the girl in his arms is Harvard freshman cheer leader Kim Possible.**

**In his arms, Oct? Any closer and she'd be under his shirt! Not to mention in his…**

**We're not that kind of network, Ben. But it just goes to show. **Cerleth began to sing. **You've got to be a football hero…**

Ben shook his head and looked into the camera. **We'd like to assure the Possibles, if they're watching that Stoppable gained no additional yardage on the play. And now a word from our sponsors.**

Instead of the usual pull back shot to the 'Sports Centered' theme the station played a very old recording of 'Football Hero'. The still of their daughter with her boyfriend made them regret the wide screen, ultra-high definition television.

"Paydirt!" the twins shouted from the doorway. Their father barely had the chance to stand up before he could hear their door slam and lock.

"Oh, just great." James groaned. "In five minutes the picture of our daughter snogging in the stadium will be the wall paper on fifty million computers."

Still, a Possible would not take this lying down. "I'm going to send 'Sports Centered' a very sternly worded email. And first thing Monday morning I'll check at the Space Center's launch schedule for an open date."

Ann put on a soothing voice. "Now, dear, the probe was what would happen if he didn't make her happy." She looked at the image frozen on the screen. "She sure looks happy."

"Maybe I should call her. Give her some fatherly advice."

"With how defensive she's going to be once she finds this out? Let me call her, tomorrow, after everyone's had a chance to rest and calm down and think."

"I can't argue with your logic. But I can put a program block for every showing of 'Humans Magazine for Television'."

"At least through February, that's when they do their 'images of the year' show."

Having something to do helped James' temper. While he worked on the program guide, Ann pondered her coming phone call.

_We have several things to talk about._

WTOS

In the Solomon Kane Collection in the John Hay Library an old man sat back with a contented sigh. He looked up at the portrait of Solomon Kane. He could have sworn that the old Puritan's face grew sterner with each of his visits. Instead of the usual sneer the emeritus nodded his head respectfully.

"I was wrong in thinking you an arrogant fool. You were not saving a trophy, you were preserving a weapon.

"And Abdul Alhazred was not the ally we had always believed him to be. Oh, the minor spells all work, but the greater incantations are all fatally incomplete. A subtle trap, set to take only the strongest and wisest of us.

"My poor Abdul, you labored and died in vain. Your subtlety was your undoing. The Guardians were as careless as we Seekers, merely reading the Al Azif from cover to cover. I have read it thus, and then from finish to start and both ways from the middle! I have done it, Alhazred! I have divined your great secret!

"I HAVE DISCOVERED THE SPELL OF BLADES!"

What started as a dry chuckle grew until it became a full-fledged evil laugh. The sound echoed off the round marble walls of the collection. When he was finished Litchfield pulled up a page on his lap top before punching a button on his cell phone. It rang several times.

"Ah, hello. No, this is not a wrong number I assure you. I was referred to you by a mutual acquaintance, a certain Mr. Brotherson. Yes, I am aware that this is a 'collect' call. I merely need the numbers to complete the transaction."

He entered the numbers as he received them. Computer systems of the world's two most infamous banks communicated. In a minute the page on his computer indicated that the transaction was completed.

"Happy now?" _No less rude after being paid. _"I need a physical address. A courier will arrive first thing Monday…not a morning person? Name the time and place and the courier will be there with all the information that you require. Time frame? You are not known for your patience, and I'm not getting any younger. Besides, you have only received your down payment; you will get the rest once we have the object. By the end of the week? Marvelous! Secure the item without garnering attention and there will be a bonus in it for you.

"Do you have any questions? Good. You sound as self-reliant as your reputation. I look forward to completing our little arrangement. Good night."

**Football Hero was by Al Lewis, Al Sherman and Buddy Fields, from 1933.**


	16. Road Trip!

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney

My thanks to the reviewers: MrDrP, RabulaTasa, CajunBear73, King in Yellow, Comet Moon, Isamu, Katsumara, Shrike176, airwalker999, screaming phoenix, The Enduring Man-Child, Michael Howard, bigherb81, whitem, LoPe21, BlueEyedBrigadier and all the other readers. I swear I'll try to get this going now.

And as always, many thanks to the Dean of Cat Herding, Brother Bludgeon.

16. Road Trip!

"Ron, we need to talk."

'_We need to talk': the most dreaded phrase in all of dudedom. Even worse than 'you were looking at her' or 'isn't his accent great?' this is the one that could lead to the big one, the killer: 'things change'._

_Chill, Stoppable, be a man. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad, not after the way she kissed you…goodbye? Oh, man, is this goodbye?_

His mind reeled in a sea of masculine uncertainty. Only his Yamanouchi training kept his voice from breaking. "What's up, KP?"

Realization brought a smile to full red lips. "It's not that kind of talk, Ron. And I don't want to talk out here. Let's go to the dorm."

She wrapped up his arm in hers and laid her head against his shoulder. Her sigh set his heart to racing. "It's been way too long since I could do this."

"KP, I was up last week."

"You're saying a week isn't too long?" Kim cocked an eyebrow.

Ron swallowed. "No! A day is too long! A minute! A second! Yep, the Ronman just can't get enough physical contact with his Kimila. I mean…"

"I know what you mean." Kim rubbed her cheek against his arm. "Now, I bet you're hungry."

"Starving."

"Then let's go get something to eat, then we can go to the dorm." The next words almost caused Ron to pass out.

"Savannah says she'll be out with her parents until late."

They started for Harvard Square, passing by a film crew that was putting their gear into a van. One of the men gave Ron a big smile. The boy returned it, and then looked at the girl at his side.

"Maybe I made the highlight reel."

WTOS

There were plenty of Crimson fans on the Square, but they proved gracious in defeat. Ron found himself autographing a program here and there. Miski men and women sought him out; eager to praise his final run. The most adoring were the Japanese who had come to support Takeshi. Ron's **"Watashi ga kyou arunoha chiki tomo tomo nookagedearu" **on their programs won him additional respect.

Kim watched and smiled. Save the world a few times and you get used to public adulation. This time the spotlight fell on Ron, and he basked in its glory. As for Kim, she found the shade a rather pleasant change of pace. She still ended up signing most of the programs anyway. The only downside was the expressions of some of the Japanese women; their eyes reminded her of Yori's whenever she would use the expression 'Chosen One' when talking about Ron.

After dinner they made their way to the dorm. Hardly anyone was in the hall, and Savannah was out as she had promised. Despite herself, Kim felt butterflies in her stomach. _This is so different from having him up in my room at home. Just wish there was no business to take care of._

Ron read her expression, shelving any thoughts of spreading some Ronshine for the moment. "So, what is it?"

Kim held up the Kimmunicator on her wrist. Her voice brought up the image of the computer wiz. "Come in, Wade."

"Hey, Kim, sorry about the game. Would it be inadvisable to congratulate Ron now?"

"Thanks, Wade." Ron had to smile. "The Ronman is now a bona-fide college football hero."

_Boys. _"Wade, I need you to scan me."

"What for Kim?"

"I'll tell you what happened when you're done."

The preteen genius frowned. "Just hold the Kimmunicator out. Okay. There's nothing here. Everything's perfectly normal. What was I looking for?"

"I almost strangled to death at the game." The answer made both Ron and Wade start.

"Kim, why didn't you tell me?" Ron moved up to hold her. She leaned into his concerned embrace.

"I saw a doctor at the game. Now I want to find out what happened." Ron held her a little tighter but asked no more questions for the moment.

Wade did have a question. "What did the doctor say?"

"He thought that I just choked on something that came back up."

"But it was serious, right?"

She nodded. "I was hallucinating right before I could breathe again. I thought I saw one of the EMTs about to stab me in the throat with a knife."

"Like a tracheotomy? That would have been an appropriate response to the situation."

"Appropriate, with a scalpel. But the blade came from up her sleeve, and it didn't look medicinal."

Keys clicked. "Here's a list of the EMTs on the field for the game. Recognize her?"

"No." The Crimson pursed her lips.

"The third pair was on the sidelines during the game, they filed a report along with the doctor. Maybe you were hallucinating or you have some guardian angels."

"Guardian angels? If there was another crew there, why haven't they contacted us?"

"You do move in some secretive circles. Give me some time to talk with GJ; they may have had a crew on hand."

"Who else could it be?" Ron nodded. "All right Dr. Director!"

"It could be Yamanouchi; your coach is an alumnus." Kim said. "Maybe you could ask him at practice next week."

The boy drew himself up. "KP, you never question a coach, unless you want to practice for the crab walk marathon."

"Fine. Wade, could you?"

The preteen shrugged. "I'll try. But Yamanouchi has the best possible security system: they aren't wired at all. But I want to get back to what happened. You were choking…"

"I wasn't choking." Kim grimaced. "It was strangulation. Something kept tightening around my neck, cutting off the air."

Wade's frown deepened. "Any pressure strong enough to cut off air would leave signs of trauma for days. At the least you'd be hoarse. You should have bruising, stress fractures, something."

Kim took a deep breath, hating to ask the next question. "What about Voodoo?"

"Voodoo?" Indignation rose in Wade's voice. "That's ridiculous, Kim."

Ron rose to Kim's defense. "Not any more ridiculous than the amulet that nearly turned Kim into a monkey."

"By rewriting her DNA! The ends may have seemed mystical, but the means were ultimately mundane." Wade took a deep breath. "Let's say—for argument's sake—that Voodoo has a basis in reality, as the Mystical Monkey apparently does. If Voodoo could, say, focus energy along telepathic or telekinetic lines, it would leave a physical trace. Otherwise we're talking magic, and that doesn't exist."

"And Captain Blackeye Brown?" Ron wanted to know.

"If we had the chest, then we could see exactly what took over Drakken and used him to open a temporal rift." The computer genius tilted his head. "What's got you thinking Voodoo anyway?"

The field unit of Team Possible answered in unison. "Marie LaTreau." Before Ron had a chance Kim chimed. "Jinx! You owe me a soda!"

"Oh, man! I might as well buy you a case for your dorm fridge."

"Diet Shocko, please and thank you." She turned back to the Kimmunictor screen. "The taunt she gave me today had nothing to do with football. It was about Ron. She wants him for something."

"She made it pretty clear last night what she wanted."

Linda Blair would not have spun her head that quickly, even with special effects. Kim's green eyes smoldered. She did not ask, she ordered. "Spill."

If one could have started fires by rubbing their own skin, Ron would have set the back of his neck ablaze. He took a step back. "She-came-by-my-room-to-wish-me-luck-which-according-to-her-involves-making-out-I-think-she-was-reaching-for-the-knob-DOORKNOB!-DOORknob!-when-the-RA-came-out-and-she-stormed-off-and-please-don't-kill-me-KP!"

The red head's scowl quickly transformed into a sultry smile. "We're just going to have to keep those lips too tired to stray."

Ron's look of fear vanished. His eyebrows wiggled. "Wear me out."

"Ahem." Wade cleared his throat. "There's nothing to implicate the LaTreaus in Voodoo. They're Creole. They fled the Haitian Revolution in 1801 for what became Bayou LaTreau. The family fortune was sugar until the twentieth century, now it's in natural gas."

"And no rumors? No heresay?" Kim asked.

"Any rich family attracts gossip. And of course they've accumulated their share of tragedies, which get labeled a 'curse' when you're rich enough. Some of the talk was no doubt jealousy; the family didn't suffer much from the Civil War. It didn't help that they weren't ardent Confederates, but that was pretty common among the really big planters. You'll learn that in your Civil War courses."

"Thanks, Wade. Maybe I should write this down." Ron said.

"I'm available for any questions." The young Ph. D. smiled.

Kim shook her head. "But there's nothing about any girl? One appearing generation after generation, maybe?"

"None, Kim. The LaTreaus were a large family, plenty of boys and girls. There were comments about the eyes…"

"Aha!" Ron shouted triumphantly. "Marie has the evil eye!"

"There's nothing unusual eye color being passed down, especially when the eldest heir always married a first cousin." Wade shared a 'eww' with Kim and Ron. "It seems to have caught up with them; Marie's the last of the line."

Pretty brows knitted. "How convenient: a girl who's invisible until high school, with a thing for other girl's brushes and my Ron. Keep me posted, Wade."

"You've got it." The youth reclined in his chair. "Now, I've got to get ready for the Zombie Mayhem XII: Cruise of Carnage online tournament. We'll miss you, Ron."

"You'll live; as long as you keep up your supply of flashlight batteries. Remember, the only thing you'll find in the dark is death."

Ron looked at Kim after Wade signed off. "So, Voodoo?"

"I know I doubted you last year, but it just sounded so weird. It still does, and that's with all the stuff with Monkey Fist—but I saw that. Voodoo is just so…so magical. Still don't know what I think about it."

Her confusion brought a smile to Ron's face. "As someone once said, KP, the universe is not only stranger than we suppose, it's stranger than we can suppose."

"Why, Mr. Stoppable." Kim smiled back. "I believe Miski is making you smarter every day. Anything else in tonight's lesson plan?"

"Well, there may be an extra credit assignment." Before he could say anything else her lips met his. Kim put her arms around Ron. In response his left arm slipped around her waist. The right arm went around her shoulders. He pulled her close. She pressed into him, hoping he would get the message.

Apparently he did. In the middle of a second long kiss his left hand slipped under her shirt. The skin underneath was soft and warm. Kim's kiss grew more insistent as his hand went up her back to touch…

She broke the kiss off. "Ron, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Ron, you winced." Her eyes went wide. "Dad? Did Dad do something? Put in some sort of electrical defense that recognizes my DNA but shocks anyone else? It's going to be so the drama if I find out…"

"No, no!" Ron shook his head, alarmed at the direction Kim was veering off to. I'm just a little sore from the game, nothing unusual."

"Let's see." Kim undid the buttons on his shirt: much more businesslike than she had been planning to do. "That's a nasty bruise on you left shoulder, Ron."

"What can I say? You Crimsons hit hard. I've got some time reserved for the whirlpool tomorrow at the field house. Funny, we had more equipment in Middleton."

"I wish you had told me about this." Kim sat him down on the bed and reached into a drawer. He knew her too well to hope she would pull out anything but the liniment she had taunted him with the night before. Then she smiled. "If you want to play in the big game, you've got to limber up first. Now, lay down on your stomach."

"You've got it, KP." The sidekick/football hero rested in the middle of the bed, Kim sitting down beside him.

Slowly, carefully Kim worked the liniment into Ron's back and shoulders. Usually she was the recipient of his back rubs, but once Ron started playing football at Middleton Kim had begun letting him in on the fun. _Not that this isn't fun, too. _Muscles tensed and relaxed under her ministrations. This was so not the boy she had known since pre-K. Even Bonnie would have appreciated the hard, lean muscles under the smooth skin. She certainly did.

The response of those muscles to her touch made her heart race, especially when Ron let out a low moan. Her breathing grew shallow. He was relaxing, and from a dozen conversations with friends she knew the last thing she wanted now was an overly tense Ron. Not tonight.

Ron was in his zone, that place where he was supremely focused and at peace with himself, everyone and everything. This was the state that had impressed Sensei when Ron had been the most hapless seeming student ever at Yamanouchi. From this zone he had created the naco, defeated Gil and stolen back Ray-X from Drakken and Shego. And tonight he was ready to go with Kim to a whole new level in their relationship.

The moment her hands stopped he turned over. Kim offered no resistance when he pulled her onto the bed. The long, slow kiss was like none they had ever shared before. They also shared a thought.

_Yes!_

Kim arched her neck, letting Ron plant kisses along her jaw and down to the hollow of her throat. She smiled; her eyes half closed. Her voice was teasing.

"Are you happy to see me, or is that…"

"A crowd outside the door?"

"What?!" Her happy train of thought utterly derailed, Kim sprang to her feet. Sure enough, she could hear stealthy movement and hushed voices just outside the door. One of them rose, making her teeth clench.

"Myna."

The girl called out. "Ready? Okay!" A few of the other freshman cheerleaders and dorm mates followed Payne's lead.

Kim and her Miski

Sittin' in a tree…

Green eyes narrowed and flashed at the collegiate variation of the old playground taunt. _Which type of Kung Fu will deliver minimum physical damage and maximum humiliation? Ron knows Drunken Monkey, maybe I'll invent my own style: Spankin'…_

Ron left his zone without leaving a forwarding address. He sprang from the bed, somehow catching an edge on the rounded footboard. Lacking titanium reinforcement, the belt gave way and his slacks fell around his feet. "Oh, man! Now that I don't want them off!'

Her BF's distress distracted Kim from thoughts of mayhem. "Ron." She reached out a placating hand. "It'll be okay."

His response was shrill. "Okay? Since when is having your constituent molecules ripped apart by hyper-gravity okay?!"

He stepped out of his slacks, scooped up his clothes and reached for the blinds. "You said Savannah climbs down the tree. I can do that!"

"Ron, think! If you're going to escape that way, shouldn't you put you clothes on?"

Sadly, Ron was not thinking. He drew the blinds. FLASH! Their eyes were bedazzled by the camera flash. Before they could adjust the treetop photographer had escaped.

A dazed Ron closed the blinds. "KP." He squeaked.

Kim's voice was even. "Don't worry, Ron. We'll find the camera after we deal with the kids in the hall."

A new commotion arose outside her door before Kim could reach the knob. Savannah's voice rose over the singing and japing. "Let me by, if ya'll don't mind. It's my room too, you know."

The Georgia Peach knocked on the door. "Kim, Sugah, it's Savannah, we need to talk. Are ya'll decent?"

"You 'ad bettair not be." Lor sang out. She was seconded by Mala, who offered in a sultry, besotted voice whatever help either Kim or Ron needed.

Savannah turned to the other two Honeys. "Max, Halle, you were supposed to keep them at the party!"

"We tried." Max shrugged. "Neither of us is majoring in Crowd Control."

Inside the room Ron had recovered just enough of his wits to comprehend Savannah's question. He shouted. "Oh course KP's decent! She's never…"

Lightning fast reflexes brought Kim's hand over Ron's mouth. She whispered to him. "Let me handle this, Ron."

She reached behind her back. Ron had seen this once or twice; world saving involves some quick changes, and that sometimes meant discarding no longer appropriate undergarments. Still, the deft movements were as fascinating as ever. In a moment Kim pulled the bra out from her sleeve and let it fall to the floor. Ron's heart flipped when he saw the Veronica's Scandal tag. Aside for the delicate lacework, the fabric was absolutely sheer.

Kim stopped and checked her hair in the mirror. _Just mussed enough. _Now she went to the door.

Savannah's look was that of the cavalry when it arrived ten minutes too late; behind her stood (or in one case swayed) the Honeys, Myna Payne, a few other freshman cheerleaders, and apparently the entire residence hall. They took one look at the unmentionable in the floor, and the boy in his boxers behind it and broke out in a raucous cheer. Kim's roommate did not join in.

"You said you'd be out all night, Savannah." Kim growled. "What gives? And why the live studio audience?"

"They're why I'm here. Sorry I didn't make it in time." The girl was clearly apologetic. "I knew they'd come here once…"

"Once what?"

"You mean ya'll don't know?" Savannah was aghast.

"Of course she knows. The little publicity hound had this planned since she joined the squad." Myna Payne snorted.

"Had what planned?" Kim demanded.

"You know, you almost sound convincing. Maybe you should look into the Drama Department." the Bonnie-Two-Point-Oh snarked. "Okay, let's give her what she wants."

A student came forward with what looked like a notebook. The young man quickly folded the thirty-six inch portable plasma screen television with worldwide satellite uplink capability. (The student's own invention, patent pending.) He turned it on. Kim and a now dressed Ron stared goggle-eyed at the image of Ivy League osculation.

Myna's voice dripped with venom. "Got to admit, Possible, you staged it well. You're perfectly framed by the entryway. Maybe you're thinking screen instead of stage. But before you take off for Steamy Valley remember, the guys do all the directing there."

Fortunately for Myna the vicious palm-heel strike to her nose played out only in Kim's mind. Vengeance would have to wait, it was not a good guy thing for one, and there were more pressing matters. Things like…

"Where did you get this?"

"An affiliate of ESN took it. It's been featured on 'Sports Centered' every hour." Savannah answered.

Two sets of knees buckled. As so often in the past, only their mutual support kept Kim and Ron upright. Kim swallowed. "So, this was seen by…"

Max had the numbers. "An estimated 22,000,000 households in the U.S. plus an unknown numbers of foreign viewers and the Armed Forces Network."

"Plus who knows how many are streaming it on the web now." Halle added.

Lor gushed. "Ah, Kim, Ronald, I salute you. Tres audaxieux!"

"You two are heroes!" somebody shouted.

"And heroes should be kissed." Mala passed out before she could do the honors.

"There should be a statue at least." Halle smirked. "Tall and shiny and…"

Ron had found his voice again. "I can see it now, KP: 'Dedicated to the memory of Ron Stoppable, the first man to cross an event horizon.' What-are-we-going-to-do?!"

"Ron, amp down on the drama." Calming Ron calmed Kim. "I'll handle Dad. You're tired, why don't you go back to Miski and check on Rufus."

Sore shoulders slumped. "Guess you're right. Don't think we could catch the camera guy anyway."

_The cameraman! _"Don't worry, Ron. We've got people."

"People?" Ron puzzled.

"People." Kim said soothingly. "People who have the whole world wired. They'll take care of it. Now, let's take care of each other."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss set of metaphorical alarm bells throughout the Greater Boston Area. Cheers rocked the hall. Kim let out a happy sigh. _I'm no drama queen, Myna, but I know when to give the crowd what it wants._

"Happy, Ron?" she cooed.

The boy's voice shuddered. "I'm cool. Off to the Red Line."

Everyone laughed when Ron turned to go back into Kim's room. The Honeys grabbed his shoulders and passed him along to a band of DINKs. Strong hands lifted into onto broad shoulders and he was carried across campus. Students joined in, unable to resist a lark. It was a procession as grand as Caligua's Triumph, and every bit as undeserved.

Ron's phone rang most of the way to the station. He let the calls go to voice mail until one ring tone demanded his immediate answer.

"Hi, Dad."

"Ronald, we need to talk."

"Uh, I think I know what this is about." Ron stammered. "And I think I know what you're going to say, so could we just…"

Dean's voice took on an unexpected tone of parental authority. "Son, over the years I've let you get by without sharing my wisdom. No wonder when you had that hero assignment you never thought of me. Well, this may be the best I've ever come up with and you're going to hear it.

"Kim's a very special girl; the kind you're lucky to meet once in a lifetime. And you've been blessed to be her best friend for as long as you both can remember. Anybody who saw that kiss knows how she feels about you. Don't mess it up, son. You'd be kicking yourself for the rest of your life."

All Ron could do was agree. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Dean's voice mellowed. "And we're proud of you, son. For Kim and the game as well."

"Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom and Hana that I love them." Ron flipped off his phone and settled into his seat. Sometimes he still could not believe his luck. That someone with as much going for her as Kim would ever have given him the time of day, much less give him…

_We were so close._

Before he could start with the mental 'Ah man!' another part of his mind kicked in, the part Dr. Spengler had been working so hard to cultivate. _No, we are close. We'll have our time, and it's up to the Ron man to make sure that it's everything that she wants. Everything she deserves. _

He drifted off to sleep in the metro. No one disturbed him; it was as though he were zealously guarded.

WTOS

Back at Fair Harvard, the fair object of Ron's longing was making a call on her Kimmunicator. "Hey, Wade."

The young tech guru looked startled. "Oh, uh, hi, Kim."

"Been getting a lot of hits tonight?" Kim's lopsided grin settled her site manager.

"Most since the Night of the Diablos, and you could use the word 'hit' if you wanted to. The meaning would be a bit different."

"Let me guess, they weren't asking for the usual kind of help?"

"The nicest just ask when the swimsuit special is coming out. I won't relay the others."

"Most prob a good idea." Kim nodded.

"I thought so." Wade suddenly began rambling. "Kim, I'm sorry! I didn't know they had a camera crew still at the stadium or that they would use something like that on their show. I don't watch football, but I'll monitor their web traffic from now on."

"It's okay, Wade." She took a breath. "But there's something you can do. Something big."

"Anything."

"Before we found out about 'Sports Centered' some jerk climbed the tree outside my window and got a picture of Ron in his skivvies."

"And you want me to make sure it never gets out?"

"Please and thank you." Kim replied sweetly.

"Shouldn't be hard." Wade set his fingers to flying over his keyboard. "Anybody with that kind of dirt—sorry—would probably hit the auction sites. I'll keep you posted."

Kim looked over at Savannah. "Thanks for helping out tonight."

"Oh, you're welcome." The blond replied. "I'm sorry I didn't get here in time."

"You could have called."

Savannah was nonplussed. "Sugah, I don't know about you; but when I'm entertain' a gentleman caller I turn my phone off."

Kim looked at her dark phone face. _Of course. _"Yeah, it was off. My bad."

"Don't apologize." Savannah laughed, then went quiet as Kim stared at her phone. "You can't leave it off forever."

"I know." Kim held the phone at arm's length. She glanced sidelong at it while turning it on. "A million calls, but nothing from Mom and Dad. Maybe they didn't see it. Dad's real sport is baseball."

"Sugah, at most that means somebody else will see it and call them."

Georgian logic crushed Coloradan hope. Kim sighed. "Maybe I should call them first."

"And say what?" Savannah asked. "I'd let them call. That way they have a chance to think it over, talk among themselves. Your callin' first might make them think the worst. You're their little girl, and they won't let anyone challenge that, not even you."

It was not in Kim Possible's nature to wait, but this was about boys, and dating. "I think you're right. Thanks, Savannah."

The room mates hugged. "You're welcome. Now I've got a party to get back to. Want to come?"

Kim shook her head. "No, thanks. I think I'll turn in. It's been a long day."

Her room mate headed for the door. Savannah turned and flashed Kim a smile. "Big Daddy wanted you know your kiss did Harvard proud."

The blush was as much from pride as from embarrassment. "Tell him 'thanks' from me."

The door closed and Kim was alone. _Not the way I had planned it to be. _Part of her mind wanted to panic over her parents seeing the kiss. _What's the big? They've seen us kissing before. _She brushed her teeth, changed and crawled into bed. Any worries about tomorrow paled before the disappointment of the day.

_So not the way I had planned it to be._

WTOS

She slept late, missing her morning study time and chapel. Her room mate was still out, so Kim took a leisurely shower. Thoughts of breakfast crossed her mind.

Knock! Knock!

Good humor vanished. Kim stormed to the door. _Hope the smart aleck can climb. It won't hurt much if I throw him out the window and onto Venable Oak, but it'll make a very vivid image. _She flung open the door, intending to mete out arboreal justice to…

"Mom?"

"Hi, Kimmie." Mrs. Dr. P. walked past her daughter and looked around. "I love what you and Savannah have done with this room." Eyes twinkled. "Where's the flag."

"It's at home; the original Stars and Bars for Venable's Legion." Mother and daughter hugged. "What are you doing here? Where's Dad?"

"A friend called this morning with tickets to a double header. The Rockies might make the playoffs, you know. And I was in the neighborhood."

"A couple of thousand miles and two time zones from home?" Kim cocked an eyebrow. "At least you won't hear the Tweebs blow up the house with both of you out.'

"I told them that if they break anything they go into their containment bubble. Now, let me guess, you haven't eaten yet. Why don't we go have lunch at Finale? I've seen it on the Foodie Network and Estrogen."

"How did you get here?" Kim did not ask the other obvious question.

"The Chairman of the Middleton Medical Foundation lent me his private jet. You aren't the only Possible who can call in favors. Now let's go. My treat."

Having her mother on hand, with no risk of embarrassing speaker phone incidents, took much of the edge off of Kim. The two women strolled across the campus to Harvard Square. By the time they reached Finale Kim was at ease. Like most tables, they ordered just enough lunch to justify a thorough perusal of the dessert menu.

Ann set her spoon down and sighed. "Can you base where you retire on chocolate?"

"Beats basing it on golf courses." _All right, Possible, let's get it out in the open. _"Mom, I know why you're here. We didn't know about the camera crew. And it wasn't him kissing me, we were both into it."

"Kimmie, I saw the film. The feeling was clearly mutual "

Green eyes searched blue. "How's Dad taking it? Ron's about ready to freak."

That brought a smile. "I've redirected your father's ire at 'Sports Centered' and ESN. We're lucky that Dr. Von Brawn retired years ago; otherwise I bet they'd be setting up a ballistic missile about now. Ron's safe; now about him and you."

"Mom?" Kim tensed. "What about Ron and myself?"

Ann's expression mixed nostalgia with motherly concern. "It's that kiss. The way you pressed yourself against Ron. That's just how I kissed your father before we…"

"Mom! TMI!" Shudders passed through Kim's shoulders that no villain had ever been able to produce.

"Kimmie, I'm not trying to weird you out. Not that there's anything weird about your father and I…except maybe that Halloween night…"

By now Kim's cheeks nearly matched her hair. Some things are just never meant to be considered by the young mind. Her mother knew that as well. "This isn't about your father and me, it's about you and Ron. You've known each other since pre-K. You're best friends and you've been going out for over a year. It's only natural for you both to want to take things to the next level."

Silence. That suited Ann fine. She did not want this to be a biological or pharmaceutical discussion. "I know you're too smart to fall for the 'good-girls-don't-plan-ahead' trap. And I'm sure Ron wouldn't just leave things up to you. He wouldn't be that thoughtless.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is this: don't go there unless it's what you both want and need. Don't do it because it's expected or because you're curious and definitely not in order to put your mark on him."

_How do you me so well? _"Don't worry, Mom. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Was Dad your first?"

The answer came without hesitation. "No. It was years before I met your father. Junior Prom night to be exact. Jimi Garcia Hoffa, his parents were stuck in the sixties. We'd been going out since that fall and it seemed like the next logical step. It wasn't. We didn't last out the summer."

"And you regret that night?"

"No. But I don't treasure it either. I want you to want to tell your daughter about that first time. About how it met your wants, your needs, your dreams."

"Thanks, Mom. I mean really, but can we change the subject?"

"Sure. I've said what I needed to say. There's still a couple of hours before my jet leaves. Why don't we shop around?"

WTOS

They were finishing up at their third boutique when the Kimmunicator rang.

"What's the sitch, Wade?"

"I found our photographer." Wade leaned back in his chair triumphantly. "He's with an online magazine: 'Bongie Bongie' It claims to cover the greatest indoor collegiate activity: as if anything could top Caverns and Creatures! You two were going to head up the 'Lifestyles (and other brands) of the Rich and Famous Students' issue."

"Famous student." Kim repeated.

"You were the most famous high school senior in the world; fame just followed you to college. I contacted them and explained how journalistic ethics apply to the web as much as to print or any other visual media."

"And?" Kim prompted.

"I threatened to unleash the Wadeaclese Virus on their systems if they didn't send me all relevant files. If that picture ever gets out anywhere I'll find out, and they're toast."

"Photo?" Her mother's voice made Kim jump. _She's finished at the register! _"What photo, Wade?"

"Dr. Possible!" the computer genius was every bit as startled as the teen crime fighter. "Taking in the sights of Boston?"

"Given what's happened; I thought a little mother/daughter time was in order. Now, what's this about a photo? Let's see it."

"Give me a minute." Eyes looked desperately at Kim. "I'm having trouble with the file."

"Wade, to hear Kim you never have problems like that." Ann chided. "It's not obscene, is it?"

"Mom!" Kim blushed furiously.

"No, ma'am." Wade stammered.

"Then show it." Maternal authority apparently carried across family lines. The image came up and Mrs. Dr. P. burst out laughing.

Despite their earlier conversation, Kim felt a desperate need to explain. "Mom, I can explain. Ron had a bad bruise on his shoulder from the game. I was working on it."

"And the pants?"

"You know Ron. He wasn't wearing the belt I bought him for our half-aversary."

"That would explain that. And you can see the bruise, even with the low, low light. Don't worry, Kimmie, I won't tell your father. I just hope you can keep this one out of your brothers' hands."

"The Tweebs?" Kim swallowed.

"I was going to tell you." Wade piped up. "At least I was able to keep 'the Kiss' from becoming wall paper on the computers on campus. It'll take a while to root it out of public places. And ethically I can't take it away from anyone willingly using it."

"So it's forever." Kim sighed in resignation.

"Well, if you ever had to lose, this is where I'd want to." Ann could not keep the mischief out of her eyes or voice. "And as to the second shot, I have to say, Ron's filling out nicely."

Wade needed only a glare. "Sorry, next time I'll make sure you're alone before I call."

"Please and thank you." Kim relaxed slightly. "And thanks for taking care of that for me, Wade."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for the Team. Nice seeing you again, Mrs. Possible."

"Nice talking to you, Wade. Tell you mother 'hello' for me."

"I will. Goodbye."

Minutes later Kim helped her mother load her purchases into a taxi. "Thanks for coming, Mom. And don't worry, Ron and I will do the right thing."

"I've never doubted you two. I think parents give these kinds of talks to keep their children young…at least in their own eyes." She hugged her daughter. "We're proud of you both."

For a moment the young woman held onto her mother like a little girl. "Love you, Mom. And tell Dad I love him, too. You can even tell the Tweebs if you think it'll embarrass them."

"Love you too, Kim. I'll give your father your love. I just won't tell him the message was delivered face to face." Ann reluctantly let go of her hug and wiped her eye. "I love private flights, no baggage limit. Come home when you can."

"Don't worry, we have a Fall Break, I'll be back then." It hurt a little closing the door for her mother. She stood on the corner and waved for as long as she could see her mother. The wave was returned.

WTOS

The rest of the day went well. She fielded plenty of calls of course. Monique was first, with Bonnie stewing in call waiting. Kim won the verbal joust running away for once, thanks to some fun arachnid facts courtesy of Dr. Akari. The rest of the old cheer squad followed in short order. For once they hung on every word.

After dinner Savannah returned for her evening studies. Eventually she looked up from her Flicker digibook. "You'll get him next time."

Kim's expression made Savannah laugh. "Oh, Sugah, you're too much! And that was a splendid performance last night; though you need a little more attention to detail."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your hair was real, so was the smear of your lipstick. And the flush on your face was clearly from more than just anger, but the unmentionable on the floor? Your shirt was still tucked in."

"It was?" Kim's face fell.

The blond nodded. "I've heard of boys with magic hands before, but that would have been a literal feat of prestidigitation."

Whether from memories of the previous night or the intrinsically humorous word just used by Savannah they shared a laugh. The smile broadened. "Kim, don't worry; Ron's yours. Honeys may steal a boy, but they nevah, evah lose one! After last night you don't have to worry about any Harvard girl."

Kim's smile vanished. "I'm not worried about Harvard girls. Two different Miski girls have put the moves on my Ron this month!"

"Ah, so you're afraid Ron's squid nip. Well, there is a way to find out what the lady Cephalopods think."

"How?"

"Why, the Miski blogosphere of course!" Savannah opened her lap top "Come on, I'm sure Middleton High had one."

"There were blogs, I just never read them." That much was true. Kim kept her diary on her computer, but it was never, ever shared. (Just hacked into once or twice.) Anonymous or not, she had no desire to broadcast her innermost feelings. _Besides, I don't see Marie typing on a computer. For some reason I get an image of a quill, strange inks and parchment of dubious origins._

Triumph rang in Savannah's voice. "They even have a search engine! Let's enter 'Ron Stoppable' and see what happens."

"Let me see." Kim took Savannah's seat. "Sports, sports, sports. Wait! When this girl calls him 'Ron Topsthemall' she isn't talking about yards per carry! And this one is not going on about a football backfield!"

"Well, he is blessed back there." The joke caught a glare. _Next time I see Ron I'll have to ask him how to deal with Kim's tweaks, or this could be a very long year._

"And here: 'Ron is the Cream-rising-to-the-topable. That is most def not a dairy reference!" Then she gasped. "Ron Stop-by-you-doll?"

"Are you worried about him? I don't think he sounds like Ron's type."

If she heard her room mate, Kim gave no response. There was a name she had to find. "Amika: 'I had the honor of seeing Ron Stoppable while shopping today. He has a most pleasant deportment. Pleasant?! ARGHHHH!"

"That hardly sounds like infatuation."

"Are you kidding? That's practically calling him the mayor of Hottietown!" Kim jumped out of the seat, only to have Savannah grab her arm.

"Where are you goin'?"

"To Arkham. I need to…"

"Stand guard? Confront him? I thought you trusted him."

"With my life." Fists balled up, green eyes flashed.

"But do you trust him with your heart?" The grip on Kim's arm turned into a gentle touch. "I saw a boy much of Senior Year, but when he decided to go to school at Transylvania instead of Princeton I broke it off. I still liked him—a lot—but I didn't trust him. Do you trust Ron?"

For a moment Kim could hear Monique asking the same question, if in a different manner. She took a deep breath and held it. Finally she let it out and smiled. "I do trust him. He's never given me cause to doubt."

Again she could have heard Monique, this time in Savannah's laughter. "We won't reserve the Chapel just yet."

Kim's phone rang. "It's Ron." Out of courtesy Savannah took her Flicker and keys and left for the dorm's common room. Alone, the redhead walked over and stretched out on her bed. "Hello."

"Hiya, KP. Get any calls today?"

"A few." She responded to his jest. "Mom came by today."

"Your Mom?" Ron yelped. "She wasn't asking for my spacesuit size, was she?"

"Chill, Ron. Everything's fine." She took a deep breath. "I just wish we had…more to talk about."

Ron's voice deepened. "Yeah, I would have liked that too."

Kim giggled. "Ron, are you trying to impress me?"

"Is it working?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm putty in your big, strong hands." She teased.

The voice on the other end cracked. "KP, Mac told me about the Fall Formal. It's coming up on Thursday three weeks from now. If you can't make it on a weeknight I understand."

'Kate' Possible made another appearance. "Why, Mr. Stoppable, I'd be honored to represent Fair Harvard at your soiree."

"That's a yes?"

"Of course. Just get me the info and I'll be there." She closed her eyes. "You look good all dressed up."

"Not as bon-diggity as you." He replied. "Just hope we can see each other before then."

"It'll be rough. We have a two game home stand before then and you're on the road for two of the next three games, if I remember, you'll be leaving the Friday after the Formal. We won't have a lot of time."

"It's not the time; it's what you make of it." Ron blinked. _Did I just say that?_

_Did he just say that? _Kim's heart fluttered. "In that case, I will most def be there."

They exchanged a few more words, reaffirmed their affections and hung up. Even after going out with her for so long, Ron felt giddy. He reached over to give Rufus a high five.

"She said yes!"

In her dorm room Kim scrolled down her contact list. _Now I have to go home. I'll see Monique and get her to help me pick out a dress. _

"Hello, Kim. You needing more advice on your love life?"

"Not really, but I just got invited to go to a Formal in three weeks and need…"

"You want me to design your dress?" the voice on the other end gasped.

"Actually, I was just going to ask for your help in picking out something."

"Girl," Monique's tone was no non-sense. "This is your first college Formal! This is no time for off-the-rack. It's one-of-a-kind, custom made time! And who better to handle that than your BGFFA?"

"Nobody." Kim smiled. "But it's three weeks; can you be ready by then?"

"Hey, if those Runway Show people can make something in two days, I can make you something special in two weeks. I've already got preliminary sketches. Just one thing."

"What?"

"School's started, you're away from home and you haven't been on any mission since this summer. Have you put on the frosh fifteen? Ten? Five?"

"Mon, absolutely not! Well, I may have gained a couple of pounds, but that might be water retention."

"Then you get to the gym. You can read while on the bike or treadmill. I can't work with a ballooning bubble, so to speak, but if it's at the other area of a boy's interest, we can get something going there."

"Some of my old ones have felt a bit tight lately. Oh, I'd love to finally shut Bonnie and Shego up." The redhead gave an encouraging look downward.

"Then I'm going with the measurements I have. Can you come up in two weeks for a fitting and alterations?"

"We have a game that Saturday, but why not? That's why the Tweebs put a jet booster in the Sloth. Actually, it was to keep Motor Ed from blowing us off the road, but the effect's the same."

"Then I'm on it." Monique clapped. "You'll knock 'em dead! See you in two weeks. My place."

"I'm looking forward to seeing both. Bye, Mon."

She could hardly wait for Savannah to return. The dress plan met with special enthusiasm. "A personal designer? Now that's how a Honey does things! Trust me, Kim, you'll blow those Miski girls right out of the water!"

WTOS

That night Kim went to the Formal in her dreams. Everything was perfect. Monique had outdone herself and Ron was smashing in a real tuxedo. They danced in the center of the floor, the object of everyone's admiration.

The crowd changed, reduced by half. Miski girls swirled around them, now holding imaginary consorts. They twirled as close to Ron as they could, trying to catch his attention. The girls from the dance club swept by; followed by autograph seekers from after the game. Amika dipped into his field of vision: brazenly demure.

Another form spun up to them. Marie LaTreau, tilting to show off the assets her dress only grudgingly concealed. Her voice taunted. "Ah, Kim, maybe you should sit the next one out. You seem to be out of breath."

At that moment Kim realized that she could not breathe. She looked up for Ron for help, but he was staring straight ahead. Kim's desperate eyes followed his.

A final figure approached them. Kim knew the long black hair, and the pose which had the right hand on the hip. Her own green eyes looked back at her, but they rested in a face that recalled Yori's exotic features. Bits of Tara's bubbly personality tugged at the corners of the full lips. The tanned, curvaceous body was all Bonnie.

Yidhra held out her hand. "Come, Ron. Time to leave childish things behind you."

Ron never responded, never let go and yet Kim was now alone. Instead of an elegant dress she now wore footed pajamas. The pigtails and braces were back. She reached out to the receding swarm of beauty and grace and its object of desire. The pain of not breathing was replaced by a greater agony.

"RON!"

Kim sat bolt upright in bed, clutching pandaroo. The clock read 3:09, then blinked to 3:10.

Buzz Buzz

Kim picked up her phone. "Hello?"

Surprise registered in Ron's voice. "KP. You sound awake."

"Nearly. What is it?"

"Uh, just checking. I did ask you to go to the Fall Formal with me?"

"Yes."

"And you said yes?"

"Of course, Ron. We've been going out for over a year now."

"Yeah, and it still feels like a dream: the best I've had."

"That's so sweet, Ron." Kim smiled sleepily. "Now go to sleep."

She knew better than to immediately lay back down. The phone rang again. "Yes, Ron?"

"Love you, KP."

Again the smile overcame any tweak or worry. "Love you too, Ron."

WTOS

Ron's call had chased the dreams away. Kim slept soundly with pandaroo in her arms. At breakfast she shared the late night conversation with Savannah. The roommate's boarding school experience had trained the belle to ignore any bell or alarm not belonging to her personally, or to the fire department.

"I told you, Kim. You were worryin' over nothin'." The blond flashed a smile. "You trust him, and he provides the verification."

"Verification?"

"Surely you remember Reagan and Gorbachev? Trust and verify?"

Kim had aced American history of course. But memories of that portion of her junior year were mainly of worrying about Drakken's seemingly random actions and the coming prom. "Oh, yeah, that Reagan."

"Actually, he borrowed the phrase from Gorbachev. Count Grandpa is quite a fan of Gorby. He can speak Russian almost as good as he can speak German."

Kim stifled a snarl. She was not at all used to being corrected by another student not named Flanner, and then only in the hard sciences. "Thanks. Got to get to class."

WTOS

Monday was an early day for Kim. Without seminars or labs, classes were over by noon, allowing plenty of study time before evening cheer practice. She sat in her last class taking notes, with a single thought running though her head.

_Trust and verify._

After class she went up to the professor to clarify a point or three. The old man graciously answered her questions, then had a comment of his own.

"I was in the stands Saturday. Your boyfriend…Istanbul?"

"Stoppable."

"My apologies. But your Mr. Stoppable is a most gifted runner. My heart was in my throat the whole of that final play."

"That's my Ron." Kim put up her notebook. "He can really make hearts flutter."

_Trust and verify._

Once a dynamic person makes a decision, there is no room for hesitation. Kim grabbed a sandwich at the cafeteria and walked to her room. She opened the false wall in her closet.

The battle suit went on in a flash. A Harvard sweat suit went over it. The suit had a new chameleon mode, but past experience had convinced Kim to avoid testing it until absolutely necessary. Next she entered a command into her Kimmunicator.

WTOS

It was lunch time at stately Howell Manor and the master and mistress of the house were enjoying their repast on the veranda.

"Oh look, dear." Mrs. Howell pointed to the secondary garage. "There goes Kim's little car."

"She must be on a mission." He raised his glass and called out to the magenta coupe. "Give him what for; especially if he's a Yale man."

WTOS

Kim climbed into the passenger seat at the curb, careful not to touch the hologram driver. Once they were in a secluded alley she took over the wheel. The Sloth took to the sky. As she bypassed the traffic below Kim went over her plan.

_It's 'trust then verify', Savannah. First you trust: and I trust Ron. I know he'd never cheat on me in a million years, a billion. Then you verify. Nothing will prove my trust of him better than watching him be faithful. _

It took much longer to find a parking space than it did to get there. Here the VTOL let her overcome bad parking that rendered the space she chose unavailable to earth bound entry. The computer map on the dash gave her directions to Ron's dorm. _Doubt he's there, but his last class let out a while ago and he has a little time before practice. _Bushes outside the door provided room to doff the sweats, and an invisible Kim made her way into the dorm.

The hall was empty for the moment. Funny thing about the hero business is that the good guys can pick locks with the best bad guys. In seconds she slipped into his room. _There is a thrill to this. Helps explain Shego a little more. _

She did not have to see the names on the door to know she had the right room. Pictures of the two of them were everywhere, along with pictures of his family. The Junior Prom picture was at his bed side. _No sign of Ron._

But someone was in. Footsteps caused Kim to couch beside Ron's bed. A gangly figure entered the room. _This must be…Mac? _His gait could not have been more unusual if he had not been wearing a sequined black evening dress. For a long moment he scanned the room, and for an equally long moment Kim was sure that he knew she was in the room.

Mac took in a deep breath. Gloved arms went out to the sides. Things took a whole new turn to the weird.

You'll be swell! You'll be great!

Gonna have the whole world on the plate!

Starting here, starting now,

_Shouldn't he be wearing a traveling dress for that song? And why is it that that part strikes me as odd?_

Mac turned on a heel and strode back into his room.

Honey, everything's coming up roses!

Kim exited stage left.

WTOS

Wade Lode was a busy young man. Aside from his software design and application work, he engaged in consulting in all matters high tech. Game companies prized his testing and troubleshooting skills and paid accordingly. Even the US government called upon his expertise in security matters. The Pentagon's new firewalls were a resounding success.

Despite all this he continued with his first job: manager of Kim Possible's web site. Without his putting her online, she would never have gotten into the world saving business. It certainly had broadened his horizons; now he moved (almost) as easily in the real world as he did in the virtual.

The last few days had been as busy as any he could remember. The web site barely withstood the flood of hits following the kiss. Traffic remained heavy, and very little of it was material he felt like passing on to Kim. He archived another tasteless e-mail, and went on to the next task of the day. He was glad his mother was out, she would not understand, but it was one of the secrets to his success. He had barely begun his search when a window opened on the screen. There was foliage, and a blur in front of it.

"Kim, is that you in your battle suit in stealth mode? Where are you?"

"At Miskatonic." The disembodied voice whispered. "Can you tell me where Ron is?"

"Kim, we've talked about this, more than once."

"You've still got him chipped, don't you?"

He hesitated. "Well, yes."

"Then where is he, please. I need to know."

Wade could not see her face, but the puppy dog pout was in her voice at full power. And by keeping the chip in Ron he clearly gave up any claim to the ethical high ground. _I give up. _"Where are you?"

"In front of his dorm.'

"He's on the other side of the Green, coming from Bloch Hall."

"Thanks, Wade."

Strollers on the Green felt an odd breeze pass them under the ancient oaks. An old professor heard something that reminded him of fly fishing with Gramps long ago. He did not see the branches above him swaying.

Kim perched on the broad limb. She watched the walkway and heard voices, mostly female. One most definitely was not.

"Can't agree, Kathy. The ability to explain something of how the universe came to be and how it functions in no way proves it to be wholly mechanical in nature."

"But it provides not only a testable answer to the questions of causation; it details a universe with no need or place for a God."

Another girl spoke up. "But that depends on an Enlightenment view of natural laws, a view that was thoroughly shattered by Einstein and Quantum Mechanics."

"Then why discuss this at all?" a third girl wondered. "Why not just do like Kierkegaard and say it's purely a matter of faith?'

"Oh, it is." Ron shrugged. "It's been the basis of Existentialism, both atheistic and theistic, but you develop your muscles by lifting heavy weights, and this is the heaviest question that there is."

Rufus popped out of his pocket. "Hink! Heavy."

The little debate society laughed. Kim frowned. These girls were hanging on Ron's every word. This was not the insincere attention of the old Bling Crowd; this was a repeat of the Truth Mojo incident. She could feel her teeth grinding.

Ron stretched. "I think Rufus and I are going to continue the debatage over a couple of nacos before heading off to practice. Any of you want to come?"

The girls all looked at each other. Three answers were all variations of the most common word Ron heard from girls. He took it in stride. "See you all Wednesday."

Rufus scampered up his shoulder. He sighed. "I guess it's just us, little buddy. I wish KP was here, Bueno Nacho just isn't the same without her."

Joy radiated from the branch. _They said no! If a girl likes a guy, she'll go with him no matter how much she hates the place! And he just said Bueno Nacho is our place! If it wouldn't be so, well, incriminating, I would just drop down and…_

Invisible or not, Kim did not pay enough attention to her hand hold on the branch. The ground came up fast. Only faster reflexes enabled her to somersault and land in front of her standing BFBF. Then the suit did what it did best: short out.

"Kim!" Ron's eyes bugged. He hugged her. "What are you doing here?"

She cast her eyes downward, away from his adoring, trusting gaze. "What am I doing here? That's the question."

Beep Beep BeepBeep!

Never had a call to action brought more relief. "Go, Wade."

"Kim." Wade started at seeing the two together. "I see you found Ron.'

"Y-Yeah." Kim caught on. "Now tell us the sitch."

"Shego's on the move. She's been spotted outside of Genoa."

"Genoa, eh? So she's not on vacation anymore?" Kim asked.

"Can't be sure, Liguria has a lot of world class beaches and resorts."

"But it also has all sorts of museums and banks. Perfect for the jet-setting thief." The redhead nodded with satisfaction. "We're on our way."

"Great job, Wade." Ron enthused. "How do you keep up with her, anyway?"

"Just do." The computer genius shrugged. He neglected to tell them that the site where he often got his Shego updates: his mother would never understand his regular visits to the site. But it was for the business of world saving. (Well, mostly anyway.)

WTOS

It took no time for the Sloth to cross the Atlantic. Even so, Kim found time to take care of other business.

"Thanks, Nancy. I'll be at the next one, I promise." Kim turned her phone off. "Aren't you going to call your coach, Ron?"

"Wha-, oh sorry, KP. Just thinking about the Formal."

"If you don't call him, he might have you doing the crab walk that night instead of dancing with me."

The direct approach worked. "On it, KP. Hey! I've got a message: 'Best of luck on your mission. Coach T.' What do you know?"

"Ron, how did he know?" Kim asked.

"He seems to know what we're all doing, all the time."

"And this doesn't bother you?" she looked at him closely.

"I just see it as the whole 'know thyself' bit." Ron said easily.

"For a philosopher, you can be rather incurious.'

"Only use brainage on the big questions, KP." Her boyfriend replied grandly. "I'm comfortable letting the little mysteries go their way."

"If you're comfortable." She shook her head. _Think I may need to call Sensei again._

WTOS

Absolute still and silence ruled the night in the Ligurian Museum. The latest security made traditional guards and monitoring systems obsolete. Not even the sound of a moving camera broke the quiet, overlapping visual fields made it unnecessary. It was invincible, perfect; though perhaps the owners should have asked an opinion from the shadow that moved in the basement.

Shego moved in her solid black outfit reserved for just such jobs. She left no prints, no broken objects, no claw marks. There was a bonus for getting in and out without being noticed. _And at least none of __them__ are on guard, especially given the object. _

Black gloved hands cracked knuckles before entering the code to the lock. The massive door opened to the safe. Gold and jewels greeted her, but she ignored them for the objective. She took the ivory reliquary from its perch.

As she expected, the artwork was exquisite, worthy of a saint. _Well ex-saint, anyway_. _Easy come, easy go_. The haloed figure knelt before who she supposed was at least a governor, maybe even an emperor. He was slipping a sandal onto an important foot. Other sides were a bit more sanguinary: making saint was tough in the old days. A look at the identification marker caused her brows to knit in confusion.

"Saint Hubbins?"

"What's wrong, Shego? Forgetting your catechism?"

The dark haired villainess spun around, putting the reliquary in a pouch as she did so. "As if you'd know anything about that. Where's the buffoon?"

"He's right…" Kim looked behind her. "Ron, where are you?"

A figure struggled in the air. "Right here, KP." While Kim had slipped without incident from the ventilation shaft, Ron had managed to snag his shirt on a pike from a weapons display. "A little help?"

"In a min." Kim turned back. Shego stopped like a child caught in a game of red light.

"Trying to cheat?"

"Me? Have to cheat to beat you, puhleeze." Kim's nemesis sneered. "I'm gonna beat you fair and square. And I have the other half of 'High School Confidential' here as a witness."

"We're college students now!" Kim took up her stance.

"Yeah, Ivy Leaguers." Ron struggled to get down.

"Oh, those good old college days. Hearts full of youth, hearts full of truth…" Shego took up a fighting stance with hands glowing. "…six parts gin to one part vermouth!"

Ron's face lit up. "That sounds…"

"Sounds what?" Kim asked crossly before leaping over a vicious green swipe

"Sounds odd." Ron said quickly. "I mean, I get a little wine at holidays, but Stoppables aren't much for the hard stuff."

It was a blast from high school. Kim and Shego traded punches and kicks while Ron attempted to extricate himself from another embarrassing situation. Struggles did not work, so it was on to Plan B.

"Rufus!" The naked mole rat poked his head out in time to see Kim dodge another kick and deliver one of her own. "KP's fine, Rufus, get me down so I can help!"

The little guy slid down Ron's leg and jumped onto the pike. After sliding down he found the brace holding the weapon. His teeth made for the perfect improvised screwdriver.

"Moving a little slow, Kimmie." Shego taunted. "Too much time seated at the foot of learning?"

In response Kim launched another attack. "Actually, Shego, I was trying to not damage the box in your bag."

The attack met with a block and counterstrike. "Thanks. I need to get it to the client intact. You've already cost me my bonus."

"Just another downside to the being bad biz." Kim's next strike drove Shego across the room. She moved to bind her opponent when she heard an all-too-familiar cry.

"KP, LOOK OUT!"

Rufus had done his work too well. The entire display came toppling over. Kim managed to leap out of the way of a halberd, but could not avoid her boyfriend. They lay in a pile while Shego laughed.

"Gotta run, Princess." To add insult to injury, Shego used the ventilation shaft to escape.

Kim gave Ron a sour look. The boy tried to make the best of it. "While we're close and waiting for the police…"

"Forget it."

WTOS

Shego checked the lap top. Her account information was up. Now she waited at her seat in the internet cafe.

It did not surprise her when an old man entered and came to her table. Most clients sent intermediaries, but collectors always wanted to see the goods as soon as possible.

"Do you have it?" he asked.

"Of course. Sorry it'll make the news. Had a little Princess problem."

Her client took it all in stride. "That's too bad for you. So long as the object is still intact I do not care."

"See for yourself." She took the bag and set it on the table.

The old man took a deep breath. "Ah, Saint…well, Mister Hubbins. All seems to be in order." He took out a phone. A few buttons were pushed and Shego's account received a nice boost.

"Pleasure doing business. Call me…no, no one will ever accuse me of copying her." Shego turned off the computer and left.

Dr. Litchfield looked around. No one was watching. He opened the reliquary and removed its contents, a withered toe bone with a sandal strap attached. Not at all repulsed, he reached over to throw it away before he thought about it. _This played its own role in the days to come. It will make a most amusing souvenir. _

Like the professional thief that she was, Shego had not opened the reliquary, much less looked into the mystery of the box's inordinate weight. Litchfield took out the old velvet lining. With a little work he removed the false bottom.

The hunk of rusted, shaped iron was most unimpressive. Still, one does not hide something for no reason. He took a tiny vial from out of his coat pocket. Given the advance in humanitarian sentiment and the increasingly sophisticated methods of capital punishment, a drop of blood shed in a wrongful execution was increasingly difficult to come by.

_You made sure this man died while you were governor in order to prove your devotion to order, Mr. President. How ironic that your action will help usher absolute chaos into the world!_

The blood worked like oil, removing rust and grime from the steel. It gleamed as it had so long ago. He was not sure, but this was perhaps the only surviving fasces from the Age of the Julio-Claudians. The lettering brought a smile to his face.

**Ponitus Pilate Procurator Iudea.**

Translator note:

Watashi ga kyou arunoha chiki tomo tomo nookagedearu - I am who I am today because of my best friends (Or at least that was what I was going for, my Japanese is a little rusty)


	17. A Reanimated Conversation

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

My thanks to the reviewers: whitem, CajunBear73, Katsumara, LoPe21, Isamu, King in Yellow, screaming phoenix, Shrike176, Comet Moon, MrDrP, airwalker999, bigherb81, and Gormo Morskopps. Good thing nobody got sick in the car.

Chapter 17: A (Re)animated Conversation

"Forget it."

"Ah, KP. I was just thinking about a kiss." The brown eyes brought a bemused smile to the teen heroine's face.

"Hold on. I just want a little more freedom of movement." She slid her arm under the jumble of weaponry, her gymnast's flexibility coming into play. Slender fingers brushed along Ron once or twice. The goose bumps were amazing. Kim avoided touching him with the grapple gun. The muzzle poked out from between a pair of battle axes and fired. She let go of it and Wade's invention lifted the heavy display off of them and returned it to its place against the wall.

Team Possible stood up and stretched. "I have to admit, Ron. That was one blast from the past that I could have done without."

Ron shared her sentiment. "I cleared the stand, KP. I did! It felt like something grabbed me and pulled me back."

Rufus made his way over. The little guy climbed up on Ron's shoulder and shuddered. "Hink! Creepy" He brought a paw up to his forehead, then stopped to glare at Ron.

"Okay, okay, we'll go to the Rabbi in Arkham."

Sirens grew louder. "At least you're wearing the belt I bought you." Kim said.

"Always, KP. Why?"

"Because…" she slipped up to him. "I'd hate for the local constabulary to come in on me kissing you with your pants down around your ankles."

WTOS

They gave themselves just enough time to catch their breath before the police burst in. The officers were most pleased to meet the world famous Kim Possible and her paramour what's-his-name and the curator was even more thrilled to find out what had been stolen and by whom.

"Such great fortune; this means so much for our museum!"

Kim was chagrined. "You're taking this well, Dr. Genoveze."

"Oh, do not misunderstand, we want it back. But to be victimized by one of the world's most dangerous and arguably most glamorous thief. Add to that a battle involving the great Kim Possible—this will put the Ligurian Museum on the map!"

"Glad we could help." The redhead muttered under her breath. "But why did she take that one?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "There were other repositories with a lot more bling."

Dr, Genoveze gave him a professorial eye. "They are reliquaries: houses for the relics of the saints. When the Church culled their numbers we collected these from shrines and churches and private collections, mostly for a song."

"But why this one?" Kim asked again.

"Lost status in the eyes of the Church does not make the precious stones or metals any less valuable or the artwork any less exquisite. Nor does it cool the passions in all cases. This was almost certainly the work of a collector."

"Who was St. Hubbins?" Kim had to know.

The dapper curator smiled. "The patron saint of quality footwear. His veneration centered in Milan; they've always been a little odd over shoes there. While the Church claims his decanonization came from the inability to sort out the wildly varying details of his life, I think the real reason was because of the embarrassment caused by his devotees."

At that Rufus leaned forward. "Hink! Story time."

"There were two shrines in Milan." Dr. Genoveze continued. "Each claimed to hold a foot of the saint in the penultimate example of his craft. Needless to say, the Brotherhood of the Beatific Boot and the Servants of the Sublime Sandal did not get along."

"Ah, retail snobs." Ron's playful gibe won him a light hearted shove from Kim.

"Eventually their processions collided one St. Hubbins' Day. When order was finally restored all that remained was a single toe cradled in a leather sandal strap of the most extraordinary workmanship.

"This came at the height of the Reformation. When he heard the news Calvin laughed so hard that he fell out of his chair. Luther spewed beer out of his nose, and the reaction of Zwingli was not recorded. To prevent further incidents, the last relic was sent to Genoa, where the main accessory of interest was and is belts."

The curator's eyes glanced over to Ron's waist. "Incidentally, Mr. Droptable.."

"Stoppable! Stoppable! What's the problem with my name?"

"Sorry. That is an excellent belt: stylish yet imminently practical."

This softened Ron's mood. He pulled Kim to his side. "A gift from my bodacious gal pal here."

Dr. Genoveze nodded his approval "The reliquary was held in a small shrine until his decanonization. Neither the Brotherhood nor the Servants have been heard from in centuries. Perhaps a designer wants it for inspiration. I should consult with the Fashion Police."

"The Fashion Police?" Team Possible did double take. "Jinx! You…" Kim began.

"I know, I know. One soda coming up." Ron moaned.

The curator cleared his throat. "I thank you both for your gallant efforts. Now, I think the media is waiting."

Normally Shego's victims preferred their losses to remain secret. But this time Dr. Genoveze was quite open regarding the loss from the museum's unique collection. Kim fielded questions regarding every aspect of her foe and their fight. At the end a reporter turned the topic to the Crimson Kiss. Her frosty expression melted as he went on.

"It is the most romantic image since the kiss in Time Square. It is as timeless as Rodin!"

"Well, it's no prob when you're with the right guy." She smiled. Ron's blush elicited another flurry of camera flashes.

Minutes later they made their way back to the Sloth. Once inside Kim activated the dashboard view panel. "Go, Wade."

"I've been checking on our ex-saint." The computer genius said. "The real Hubbins, if he did exist, was a cobbler for the Severans. They overlooked his faith for the sake of the footwear. Eventually during a wave of persecutions he came into possession of a relic desired by the Emperor Caracalla. Hubbins refused the Emperor's demand, and sources give a long and drawn out account of a long and drawn out execution. But he took his secret to the grave. He took everything…except his feet."

"Ewww." The field unit of Team Possible said in unison.

Wade continued. "One conspiracy site claims the Church knows all this to be factual and decanonized Hubbins so that the story and the reliquary would be forgotten. They claim a powerful artifact was hidden with the relic. The reliquary was known to be heavier than its component parts."

"I wonder if Shego knew that." Ron said.

His partner shook her head. "I doubt Shego learned one thing more than was necessary in her religion class at St Agatha's."

Wade agreed. "Shego knows better than to ask question; you'll lose the big spending clients that way. Besides, she's never shown any ambition of her own. This was just for the money."

"So all we have now are questions." Kim fumed.

"Kind of normal for us at this point." Wade took a sip of his slurpster (diet slurpster, thank you very much.) "I'll do some more research and let you know what I find out. You guys have a good flight."

Now they were alone. Kim snuggled up to Ron once the autopilot took control. He looked into her eyes.

"KP?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"One thing bugs me. The reporter: I get the World War II picture, but what's so romantic about a giant flying lizard?"

WTOS

Kim cleared up the pronunciation issue for Ron. Luckily he did not press for an exact recreation of 'the Kiss'. _So not the time or place._ Still, there was a great deal of cuddling and talking. Given their schedules, for the next couple of weeks Cambridge and Arkham might have well been on opposite sides of the globe.

The first weekend was bad enough. Kim watched the Miskatonic-Penn highlights over and over for the one shot of Ron cutting up field for a big gain during the Pods' final drive. Ron had to make do with a picture. Week two was worse; interest in the Pressive/Stoppable combination caused ESN to offer the Ivy League a deal and the kickoff was moved for late afternoon to noon.

"Oh, this tanks!" Ron grumbled over the phone. "I'll be back in Arkham in the evening."

"And I'll be gone by then." Kim sighed. "I wish I could wait for you but Monique will only have a few days to make any alterations to my dress."

Ron's voice changed. "Wait 'til you see what I have planned."

"You've planned?" Kim teased.

"Oh when it comes to the Fall Formal, Miski Men are all about the planning. It'll be a night you'll never forget, KP."

"I'll hold you to that, Ron Stoppable." She whispered in a voice laden with promise.

"I'll hold you too, KP." She could hear his slap his forehead over the phone. "I mean, love you too, KP…I mean…gotta turn in, we're leaving extra early for New Haven tomorrow."

"Get some rest, Ron. And I know what you mean. Same here."

WTOS

The game with Columbia went fairly easy for Harvard. Kim was able to pay attention to the announcer when he read scores from other games. Miskatonic's lead over Yale elicited some rather unusual groans; it meant that the Pods would continue to hold their lead in the Conference standings.

During one break Kim walked over for a drink. She activated her Kimmunicator and was greeted with Wade's smile.

"Got the feed ready."

She tensed with excitement while watching Ron turn a broken play into a thirty yard game. Kim had watched enough sports over the years to know when someone had that indefinable ability to excite the fans. Ron had that special something.

"Still cheering the enemy on?" Myna Payne's voice interrupted Kim's viewing.

"They're rivals, Myna, not enemies. There's a big dif; trust me on this one."

"Maybe, but there's also a big dif between a booster and a poser."

Nostrils flared, eyes blazed. Shego would have known to take a step back. Myna Payne was not Shego. "No one questions the loyalty of Kim Possible to her school!"

"Really? Then I guess that's because no one ever bothered to look. If they had they would seeEEEE!"

The cheerleader's feet exchanged places with her head. She landed flat on her back in front of a table holding cups and a cooler of sports drink for the squad. Kim could not hide a smirk.

"You!" Myna hissed. "You did that with your Kung Fu."

"Did not!" Kim retorted.

"Sorry! Sorry!" A voice called out from behind them. They saw a cameraman from the Student Media Center rush over. "Stupid cable. Let me…"

He grasped the cable and jerked it out from under Myna. Then he cried out again. "Watch out!"

Kim jumped back, but Myna could only watch the cable take the legs out from under the table. The cooler's top came off and drenched the girl with five gallons of fruit punch sports drink.

The entire freshman cheer squad helped Myna off the field. As they passed by the cameraman Kim noticed that cable was not attached to the camera. Her eyes tracked his. He was looking into the student section. The Honeys were there. Max blew the young man a kiss.

WTOS

Nancy Farmington took a cup and swallowed her medicine. With luck she had headed off the migraine at the pass. She remembered what her mentor had told her at the beginning of her student teaching: they may be gifted and talented, but they're still middle schoolers. _Somehow it fits here, too. _After a cleansing breath she started her second interview.

"Kim do you know the cameraman?"

"No. I've never seen him before. You have to believe me, I don't fight underhanded."

The Head Cheerleader nodded. "I believe you. But I have to admit, it was quite the coincidence to have that particular cameraman there. He came to Harvard when he could have stayed in Wyoming on a rodeo scholarship. Anyone who can handle a rope like he can could work wonders with a cable. And there is the room mate issue."

"Room mate?"

"Betty reminded me that your room mate is Savannah Venable. My family has been coming here ever since they married into the Frothinghams in the late nineteenth century. I'm well aware of the Venable capacity for mischief."

"I'm sure Savannah had nothing to do with this." _Max isn't the kind to need direction._

"If you and Myna want to stay on the squad you'll both have to learn to get along. The first step is to not bring in reinforcements. The last thing we need is a repeat of the Mooning Pies Incident of 1978."

"You mean 'moon pies' as in the snack?"

"No. I mean 'mooning' as in mooning and 'pies' as in the dessert. Just check out the book 'Those Crazy Crimsons' from the library." Nancy rubbed her temples. "I know you have plans so I'm letting you go. See you Monday. Don't worry, I remember about Thursday."

"Thanks, Nancy. Don't worry, we'll work things out. Time to get to Upperton."

The Sloth was waiting in the parking lot. Once it was on autopilot Kim pulled up the Miskatonic highlights on the dashboard screen and pushed the button for Ron's number on her phone.

"Hiya, Kimila."

"Hi, Ron. How's Miskatonic's star running back?"

"Pressive's still the star. He got the ESN Playah' of the Game."

"I saw the highlights. When they were talking about the talent that Takeshi has assembled around Pressive, they were showing you."

"Really? Dad did seem pretty proud when he called."

"I'll make sure Wade streams the game to your computer. Now about tonight, I'm sorry I can't stay in town, Ron."

"No need to apologize, KP. The fashion mystery will make the reveal all the sweeter on Thursday. Say 'hi' to Monique for me and Rufus."

"I will. What are you going to do tonight, Ron?"

"Dunno. Maybe marinate with Rufus. We haven't spent much time together since Rufus started going out with Daisy."

"Ahhh." The high pitched sigh made Kim giggle. _Rodent love._

"Ron, if you want to go out tonight I'm fine with that. I know you've been studying and practicing you deserve a break."

"Really? But KP, that last time…"

"Just go to a quieter place and save your dancing for Thursday. I bet Mac could use a night out. He's probably going stir crazy spending so much time in his room studying."

"You don't know the half of it, KP. Some times he hums in his room all night and I think he has a disco ball in there…weird lights come from under the door."

"Wonder what he was wearing." Kim muttered to herself.

"What, KP?"

"Nothing. Just gave a good time."

"Thanks. I think I'll see if Amal's up for something too."

"I'll check up on you later." Kim smiled at Ron's enthusiasm. "I've got to take back the controls. Love you."

"Right back atcha, KP."

The Sloth's GPS set her right in front of Monique's parking garage. Having braved underwater caves and fortified lairs the dimly lit cars inspired no concern. She walked quickly to the elevator and entered Monique's apartment number on the key pad.

A familiar voice chimed over the speaker. "Is that you, girl?"

"It's me, Mon."

"Then step in that elevator and let's get this started!"

The elevator opened directly into Monique's place. Kim gawked at the spacious studio apartment.

"Great, isn't it?" Monique gushed. "Coco's kept it to remind him of his start: heir to a wholesale fabric empire, struggling to break into the world of high fashion. I'm starting where he did! He's never said it, but I think he sees me as his special project."

They hugged and squealed. Monique gave Kim a looking over. "Hmmm, maybe the girls are stepping up. We'll see in a little bit. Come on; let me show you the place."

"Is that a stage?" Kim asked.

"Yep. The first Coco designs appeared on that little runway. The work area's behind it."

"Can I see the dress?" she asked excitedly.

"IAM. First you need to meet some people." As if on cue the elevator opened again and nine young people emerged.

"Hi, Monique." The called out.

She smiled. "Hi, ya'll. This is Kim."

"Hi." Kim waved slightly. Next she whispered to Monique. "Who are these people?"

"The one pushing the covered cart runs the hot-tiest student owned catering business in town. The others are from my designs concept class."

"You invited friends?"

"Not exactly. They're the best of the class, after me of course. An outside eye might catch something I've missed."

"So I'll be modeling for them?" Kim gestured to the crowd. None of them noticed as they were crowded around the now open buffet.

The BGF shrugged. "You've done runway work before."

"I was a there to guard a necklace." Trepidation lined Kim's face. "This time they'll be looking at me."

"Don't worry, they're here to help…and get free food. Besides, I told them if they get really catty I'll declaw them before fixing them. Now, let's go introduce you before they eat all of the crab cakes. I hear they're to die for." She had a question for Kim. "What's Ron up to tonight?"

"He should be getting back to Miskatonic by now. Think he's going out with a couple of friends."

"You not afraid of him bachin' it?" Monique grinned.

"It's no big. I'm sure they'll have a quiet all-guy evening."

WTOS

The zombie looked up from Mac's prostrate form. Yellow eyes glowed with unholy hunger. Ron took a step back. They had almost made it. Unlike the others they had not scoffed at the rumors of shambling horrors. Their flight had taken them to the edge of town before their luck had run out.

_And we're running out of weapons too. _Mac had been carrying the pistol when the zombie put its fist through his skull. The precious shot gun was two blocks back, cradled in Amal's undead hands. And Steve had fallen almost instantly, the shock from the end of his world driving him to acts of ultimately suicidal courage. All Ron had was a hammer, a suicidal weapon given the mutantagenic slime covering his approaching foe.

Frantic chattering caught Ron's attention. It was Rufus pointing to the crate beside them. "Hink! Ice pick! ICE PICK!"

"Got it! Way to go, Rufus!" Ron now had a new weapon complete with a plan. He held the ice pick up in his left hand. The hammer came forward with all the force and aim of his hard-won skills. His attacker was five feet away. If he missed…

The pick buried itself in the zombie's eye. It shuddered, its skin smoked. There was a flash and it fell; no longer a monster, just another mad scientist who had paid the price for his hubris. On the bloody streets beyond Ron could see the others collapsing. Moments later music swelled and dripping red letters spelled out **The End.**

"Abooyah!" Ron exchanged high fives with Rufus, Steve and Amal. Mac's confused dap came much slower and lower.

Amal crowed at their success. "Did I not tell you? Despite all the advances in programming and graphics, you can't beat the original 'Zombie Mayhem' arcade game!"

They took their drinks and ambled over to an open table. It was still early and the music act was tuning up. Amal had recommended the Nook based on the vintage arcade machines. Aside from that, the small place held other charms. The interior was dark but not too much so. Its founder, a true Zappa man, had never bothered to put in a wet bar, which put him ahead of the curve with the changes in drinking laws. The Nook was a place for people to hang out (and often dry out) while talking or listening to singers.

And it had won Ron over already. "This place rocks! Video games, good food, a soda fountain! Sorry there's no dance floor, Mac."

"That is quite all right." his suite mate replied. "One must observe as many venues as possible in order to grasp the nuances of this period's courtship rituals."

Ron glanced at Rufus. The naked mole rat shrugged before resuming his attack on a plate of nachos. Steve only smiled and shook his head. "Sure, whatever. So, about dances; I know Steve's going, how about you guys. Are you going to the Fall Formal?"

Amal nodded excitedly. "Oh, absolutely! I have my tickets and reservations at Arkham's finest restaurant."

"Who's your date?" Ron asked.

"I do not have a date yet. Father told me that if do not have one by Tuesday to call him and one will be procured."

"Who have you asked to accompany you?" Mac inquired.

"There are several girls that I am interested in, and who I think may return the sentiment. But if I ask one, I risk offending the others. Besides, Mac, not every culture insists on the guy asking. Among my people, women are free to ask a man out or even propose. My sister, Talia, married an extraordinary man in that fashion." Then he sighed. "It did not end as we had hoped it would."

Amal's hand subconsciously brushed over his hip pocket, and the wallet that held photographs his father didn't know he had. His sister, his onetime brother-in-law, and even his little nephew. Poor, poor Damian…

Ron blinked "Dude, this isn't the Spring Fling, this is the Fall Formal. Guys do the asking for this one, well, there are exceptions."

Steve leaned back. "What can I say? Other than the 'bidding' was fierce."

"I must ask you about that later." Mac said.

Ron's other friend deflated a little. "What's wrong with the girl asking?"

A pall settled over the table. After a moment Mac dispelled it. "Perhaps Amal's problem is a simple lack of experience, particularly given the cultural mores and morays he has alluded to. Should he receive instruction from someone experienced in winning women's hearts…"

"The whole Big Nosed Guy thing?" Ron grinned. "Good idea, Mac. Let him watch you chat up some girls and he'll get the hang of it."

"Actually, Ron, I was thinking of you." Mac stared intently at Ron. "My last relationship faltered without reaching fruition. You, on the other hand, are on the verge of…"

Ron started. "Mac, ixnae on the inxjae."

The thin man puzzled over the words before he continued. "Nevertheless, you have proven your ability to woo self-assured, objectively desirable females."

That last line distracted Rufus from his snack. He slicked back imaginary hair and wiggled his eyebrows. "Hink! Ladies' man!"

"You got that right!" This time Steve exchanged skin with the naked mole rat. "If anybody can set you up, Amal, it's Ron."

Dark eyes brightened with hope. Ron's study buddy nodded. "Yes, Ron. Show me how to 'chat up' a girl."

Ron's great weakness was flattery. No, Ron's two weaknesses were Kim Possible and flattery. Correction: Ron's weaknesses were Kim Possible, flattery and monkeys, one cannot forget monkeys. Addendum; among Ron's weaknesses were Kim Possible, flattery, monkeys, control consoles with flashing buttons, just himself and his ride scorching across the black top, word problems, oh, just go add whatever else you feel the need to. Suffice it to say, he took up the challenge.

WTOS

Kim inwardly shook her head at some of the names given by members of Monique's class. _Are they given names or would-be brand names? _There was no denying the cattiness underlying the conversations, but everyone seemed dazzled that Monique could score a world famous client for her first creation. She could hear the one called Whisper tell a girl called Fedora "Famous, pretty, and a perfect size. Monique's proof it's more important to be lucky than talented."

The model passed just close enough to whisper. "And it never hurts to be discreet."

MC Monique raised her hand. "All right, everybody. If you want any more goodies go get them now. We're going to go get ready."

Kim did not have to be told twice. She all but raced to the screen behind the runway. Black fabric draped the sewing dummy. Fists balled up at the final obstruction.

"Ready for the unveiling?" Monique grinned at Kim's eager nod. She took hold of fabric and pulled. The black gauze fell away.

"Mon, it's…beautiful."

The dark beauty beamed. "Isn't it, though?"

"But will that color work on me?"

"Well, at first I was going to go with your logo's colors but this suits the occasion better. And yes, you'll look just great. Get your clothes off, all of them. Everything you'll need is back here, starting in the top left-hand drawer."

The contents caused some consternation. "Mon, I get the hose, but I'm used to the top spilling over my palm."

"And if I had my way, wouldn't be wearing that much. You don't need support or augmentation and the dress' foundation covers all that needs covering. But I thought you'd be more comfortable with those. Need me to help you with them?"

"I can manage, Mon." Once she was finished Monique pointed to a bathrobe.

"Time for hair and makeup. Dandee, you're on." At Monique's call the taller of the two young men Kim had met came back. He looked closely at Kim and then the dress. He motioned to a chair.

"Take a seat. Do you want your hair up or down?"

Kim took her seat in front of the dressing desk mirror. "Up."

"Good call." The man whipped out a brush. "You'll be fierce enough without the lioness mane going on."

Dandee worked fast. He politely turned away when he was finished so that Kim could dress. She avoided the temptation and did not look until the makeup man made sure everything was how he wanted it. What she finally saw made her gasp.

"It works. Monique, it really works!"

"Knew it would. All it takes is attitude, and the girl who can do anything has got to have some of that." They went to the step where Monique motioned for Kim to wait. Her BGFFAPD went through the curtain.

"Thank all of ya'll for showing up. And now let me reveal my first formal creation, to be worn at the Miskatonic Fall Formal by my good friend, the one and only Kim Possible!"

_You've done this before. _A deep breath not only calmed Kim, it showed how well tailored the dress was to her. She would not be constricted. And what she saw when she took in air made her confidence soar.

_It's show time._

WTOS

"Okay, dudes, it's show time. Now who does the Ron man have to charm?"

"Over there is an appropriate subject." Mac pointed to a girl sitting by herself in a corner table, staring at the glass in front of her

The thrill dimmed. "She's by herself. I'm not setting a girl up for a fall."

"A good researcher follows a code of ethics." Mac nodded in understanding. "Have you another subject in mind?"

"Not subject, subjects." Everyone turned their attention to Steve. "At five o'clock: the perfect challenge."

"Uh, dude, that's a booth of babes." Ron said.

His team mate nodded. "Which means they're more up for some talk, especially if it's just you and they can tell you're not out to ask one out or to set them up with us. Of course, if they're interested…"

Ron had to shake his head. "Well, what do you think, Rufus? We've faced longer odds before."

Rufus put on his best game face. "Hink! To the hoop."

"All right then, we'll give it a shot." Ron stood up. "Time to chat with the ladies."

After he left Mac turned to Steve. "A simple question: the last time you were out with Ron you were most successful in the pursuit of romance."

"You got that right."

"Then why did you not volunteer to instruct Amal?"

Ron's friend and team mate smiled. "Game recognize game. While I am all that, Amal needs to see someone a little more unconventional at work. Besides, when the Ron man's on the case, you never know how things will end up."

WTOS

Kim slid past the curtain and glided down the runway. It was shorter than the one where she had encountered Camille Leon but she was an expert at judging distances. _At least nobody's trying to tip me over into a pit of something. _She stopped and struck a pose, giving the viewers just enough time to take in the dress.

While she was a bit conscious of having people watching her back in a rather un-Ronlike (or was it?) way, she kept her pace back to the curtain even. _They need to see the dress from every angle. _Monique opened the curtain for her.

"How did it go?"

"Didn't you watch?"

"I could see you, you looked great! But I couldn't see the class." Monique took Kim's hand. "Well, time to see what everybody says."

They walked back out to applause. Everyone crowded around to give their compliments.

"It's perfect, Mon." Fedora gushed.

"Bold color choice, nice cut, fits her like a glove." Whisper nodded.

"Thanks, guys."

"But you might want to work a little on the bust line." The second of Monique's male colleagues said. He was a slim, handsome man with sharp features and a rich, dark complexion.

"You really think so?" Monique asked.

"When she moves the crimson is barely a line. I assume you mean it to make the same width you have on the slit up the side. An excellent use of complementary colors, by the way."

The designer took a close look at the issue in question. "Thanks, Salehe. I did mean for them to be the same. Guess it'll need an alteration. Anybody see anything else?"

No one else had anything to add, so Monique turned to Kim. "I can have this done in a couple of hours. You can take your dress with you tonight back to Cambridge."

Kim shook her head. "I'm going to Middleton tonight. You think I would risk coming here and not going home? Besides, Mom's dying to see this."

"So you will have a little time before you go." Salehe said to her. "If so, there's a little place just down the street. Would you like to go out for some coffee?"

Kim smiled graciously. "Thanks. I'd like to b…"

Monique grabbed Kim's arm. "Kim, can you come with me? We need to get on that dress." She led Kim back to the work area. By the look on her face the alteration was not foremost on her mind.

"What were you going to tell him, Kim?"

Kim shrugged. "Thanks, but no thanks. I mean, you'll need me here to try it on."

"In a couple of hours. I want to get it done right." Monique helped Kim get out of the dress. "Until then you're free. Why don't you get out of this cat fest? They make a great latte."

"Mon. I'm getting a dress for a date: a date with Ron. I'm not going out with someone else. That would be wrong."

Her friend looked her in the eye. "Kim, Salehe is the best designer at the school. He already has work out there on the rack, and I'm not talking Smarty Mart! I've been working up the nerve to ask him to work with me on my semester project for the past week. I think we'd make a great team."

"You, needing to work up the nerve?" Kim could not keep the bemusement out of her voice.

"I'm sure you've noticed these aren't the most stable people." Monique responded. "He has a tendency to bolt. I'm afraid if you say 'no' he'll take off and who knows if I'll ever get another chance. It's just a little coffee. Please?"

_I think you're looking for more than just a designer. _Considering what Monique was asking her to do, the stray thought seemed all the more so, it was someone in need. And this time it was a friend. If Kim Possible had a weakness other than Cuddle Buddies, and misunderstood (hottie) jerks, and yes, Ron, it was a plea for help.

"It better be good coffee."

WTOS

People always assumed Ron Stoppable was a happy-go-lucky, fly by the seat of his pants sort of guy. In most ways they were right. Ron had a natural ability to ignore the inanity of people around him without sacrificing his ability to gauge them with a remarkable degree of accuracy. Less useful was the tendency to let other details and assignments go by without due concern. Many a class topic was done at the last possible second with a totally avoidable degree of panic.

When on missions, the sidekick also tended to let Kim handle the details. She was a take charge sort of person, and between Wade, Global Justice, and any number of agencies there seemed to be no end of persons willing to tell him what was going on and what he needed to do. But when he was on his own Ron was fully capable of observing, making plans and taking action. At the moment he was sizing up his objective.

"It's a booth full of blond bombshells. Every major shade: strawberry, ash, flaxen and ginger." The four mentioned girls were all pretty enough, and carrying on an animated conversation among themselves, largely ignoring the brunette who sat in the middle. Glasses also set her apart from her companions. And while the blonds were all conventionally pretty, the serious, angular face could be best described as handsome.

As he neared the booth Ron began to feel the jitters. "Look at them, Rufus. It's the Senior Table all over again. No, this is worse…it's a Graduate Table! Why did I let myself get talked into this?"

Rufus opened his mouth but Ron beat him to the punch. "I mean, it's not like I need a girl. I've already got one, the most badical girl in the whole wide world. KP likes me for who I am. With her I don't have to pretend. You can't ask for more."

The naked mole rat nodded, but again was too slow with his words. "What if she found out about this? You know how jealous Kim can be! Man, why am I doing this?"

"Amal!" Rufus shot the word out before Ron could continue his rambling.

Ron could see his friend out of the corner of his eye. The shy young man watched Ron as if he were going to expound upon the secrets of the universe. Maybe he was.

"You're right, Rufus. KP would understand, she's great that way. It's not like we're cheating, We're helping Amal learn how to communicate, and girls are all about the communication. Just a little communication, just a little friend helping, and we're on our way.

Too bad Ron reached the booth before he could work up an opening line. Or maybe it was fortunate, given his track record. Five pair of eyes fixed on him, their expressions varied, but none could be mistaken for inviting. Fighting down the urge to rub the back of his neck, or run screaming, he fell back on his (Canadian) espionage training.

"Hi, I'm Stoppable, Ron Stoppable."

"And you'll be our first brush off of the night?" The strawberry blond on the far right said, her icy blue eyes glittering. Cruel laughter rose from the blonds. The brunette was unreadable.

"Now, Tiffany that's being hasty." The flaxen haired girl on the far left said. "Maybe this place has interactive entertainment. He could be part of a comedy act."

The ash blond sitting next to the flaxen hair quipped. "He does look goofy enough to be on 'Hey, That's My Line!'"

"At least he's not drunk." Sniffed the ginger blond. "I hate it when they're too high to know when they're told to drift."

"Oh, he's high all right." Tiffany shook her pretty head. "Didn't you see him over there at that game? Everyone knows those games are designed to trigger endorphins. Those things are every bit as addictive as the stuff they serve at Bueno Nacho."

The condemnation brought Rufus out of his pocket. He shared Ron's eye twitch. Ron's voice was even. "You can diss me all you want, but nobody rips into Bueno Nacho on my watch. What you call addictive I call fine dining. And if you knew anything about food you'd know that any cook tries to make dishes that people will want again and again. If that's what you mean then yes, Bueno Nacho is _muy aumentativo_. Cut me if you must, but leave the giant taco of happiness alone."

"Hink! Yeah!" Rufus added.

The spirited defense stirred the brunette to speak. "Fascinating. Most men wouldn't dare contradict a woman in this situation."

"Just striking a blow against fast food prejudice." Ron answered.

"But you know that fast food is not healthful." The ginger blond noted.

Now Ron had to rub the back of his neck. "I wouldn't recommend a diet of it, but in moderation, say, once a day, evenings are best, plenty of time to digest, it's not bad for you."

The brunette's dark eyes took on a peculiar glint. "I doubt you came over here with such pure motives as defending a multi-national fast food empire. I think you're after something a little more…delectable."

"Like a blond sandwich?" the flaxen blond snickered.

Ron was taken aback. "You think I…no! I mean, you're all attractive but…no! I'm not looking for a girl. I've already got the best girl in the world for best friend and badical GF. So I…no!"

"Then why are you here?" the ash blond asked. "We aren't on the way to anything over here."

"Actually, it's for a friend."

The ginger blond shook her head. "A good start, but the stallion pulls up lame, lame, lame."

"I am here for a friend." Ron replied. "See the guy over there on the right at my table? That's Amal. I'm trying to show him how easy it is to talk to girls."

"So you're helping out a friend?" the brunette nodded. "Laudable. Let the neophyte see how a master operates?

"Me? A master? Hardly! I never even kissed a girl until my Junior Prom. I might forget the Lil' Diablos, the terror, seeing my best friend lose hope, but I'll never forget that kiss."

Something in the look in his eye made the booth melt. The brunette motioned to him. "We've got room. Sit with us. We'd like to hear more."

WTOS

_Why did I let myself get talked into this? What if Ron found out? What would he say? He can be so insecure sometimes. He'd…he'd say that it's okay, I'm doing it for a friend. I'm trying to help Monique open up communications with Salehe and Ron is all for that. _

The walk over to the Real Frappin' Deal went easily enough. Salehe made innocuous remarks about the weather. Kim volunteered to pay for her own coffee, but he insisted it was his treat. She ordered a cappuccino but declined a pastry and by the way he picked at his croissant Salehe was not that hungry either.

"Ms Possible….may I call you Kim?"

"Of course." She smiled.

He did have a winning smile. "Thank you, Kim. I did not want to be presumptuous. The fashion industry is so full of insincere familiarity."

"I think I saw some of that tonight. That Whisper is really good at switching faces."

"Yes, Whisper. But she was being honest about the dress. It is quite a compliment when someone seeks your opinion as Monique did. Only honesty will do in such situations."

"So, Mon says you have a line out in the stores."

"I have had some modest success." He nodded. "A small line in some mid-range boutiques, but I assure you that this is not the end of my ambitions."

"Well, Mon certainly thinks you have what it takes to make it big."

He brightened. "Really? She's a natural. Still a bit raw, a little too Club Banana but you can see her growing every day. That dress she made for you: magnificent!"

The compliment made Kim blush. His next statement caught her unawares.

"But any dress would look good on someone as beautiful as you."

WTOS

"See?" Steve pointed to the booth that now included Ron. "He warmed up four cold shoulders and got past the guard dog. Ron's the MAN!"

"Excuse me," Amal said "but 'guard dog' hardly sounds like a flattering phrase. The brunette not in the least unattractive."

"Believe me, the usual term is a lot worse." The receiver replied. "Come on, guys, you can tell the brunette doesn't fit in. She's not at all bad looking, but she's not in the same league as the blonds."

"Perhaps they are not as cliquish as you suppose." Mac suggested.

Steve dismissed that. "Did you see how they went after Ron? They think they're the center of the universe, blowing off guys is a game. I don't think they keep her around for friendship."

"Then why?" Amal wanted to know. "Is it for the protective services you mentioned? I have seen many bodyguards in my life; she does not appear that imposing."

"She is not that kind of guard." Ron's strange suite mate lectured. "A 'guard dog' and I agree with Steve, the usual term is far too offensive, is a girl, usually less attractive than the aggregate, who acts as a sort of screener of potential mates. Though given her positioning at the booth, and the interactions we have witnessed, I am uncertain that that is her function."

"Then what is it?" Amal asked.

Steve had an answer. "The blonds look smart enough, but I'd bet the farm that brunette's a genius. My guess is they're using her for her brains."

"That's hardly fair!" the young man bristled.

"You can be indignant later." The tall dark man shut him off. "Right now, watch and learn."

Ron took his seat beside the brunette. Once he was seated the flaxen haired girl and the ash blond slid back into their places. _Can't get out now. But this was what I was aiming for. What kind of trap have I gotten myself into?_

The strawberry blond appeared to be something of a mind reader. "So the brave hunter has walked into the tender trap. I believe introductions are in order." She extended her hand.

"I'm Tiffany Tetley."

The ash blond went next. "Bethany Bentley."

"Brittany Bailey." The ginger blond cooed; batting long lashes Ron's way.

"Whitney Wellesley." The flaxen haired girl winked.

"We're the Eelees!" they chorused.

He could not help but notice how the brunette beside did not share their ebullience. An outsider himself, he reached out. "I didn't catch your name."

"I'm Rob…" she stopped and looked down before taking his hand. "I'm Bertie, Bertie West."

"Nice to meet you." He smiled at her warmly. "And the little guy is Rufus."

"Hink! Tada!" the little guy emerged from Ron's collar.

"A naked mole rat." Bertie remarked. "They hold great promise for medical science. You know that they have an incredible life span for small rodents?"

"And they never develop cancer." Ron added. "I'm all up on my fun naked mole rat facts."

The little guy puffed out his chest. "Hink! Immune!"

Dark eyes glowed with natural curiosity. "I was considering conducting research into that little mystery until other…topics presented themselves at the Medical College."

"Aren't you a little young to be a doctor?"

"The stallion's back on his feet, running hard." Bethany teased Tiffany.

By her reaction, Ron could tell Bertie was not used to such flattery. "Thank you, Ron. I did leave my prep school during sophomore year. I haven't taken the Boards, but I've completed my BS and all the course work and labs at the Medical School. It's not a practice I'm interested it, I'm into pure research."

"What are you working on now?" Ron could not resist the next line. "Or if you told me would you have to kill me?"

"Oh, it is a secret." Bertie's eyes took on a peculiar gleam. "Even the Fellowship Committee doesn't know the full details."

"You're here on a Fellowship? Me too!" He leaned back. "Yep, you're looking at the recipient of the Solomon Kane Fellowship."

"Wait a minute." Bethany blinked. "You're the Solomon Kane Fellow?"

"That's the oldest fellowship at the University." Whitney marveled.

"They say that the selection is most unusual." Tiffany sounded impressed. "Heroes and heroines every one."

"Oh, I'm no hero, just a sidekick. KP's the hero."

"KP?" Bertie asked.

"I'm sure you've heard of her: Kim Possible. Only the most bon-diggity girl in the whole world! Saved the world a dozen times over. She's my date for the Fall Formal."

Tiffany laughed. "You're telling us that you've got a date with Kim Possible?"

"A standing date!" Ron brought a hand down to Rufus for his high five. "We've been going out ever since Junior Prom night."

"So she's that first kiss?" Bethany asked.

"Actually the only girl I've ever kissed." The freckled face broke out in a huge grin. "But I'm cool with that."

"How sweet." The Eelees sighed.

Someone was less sanguine. "That's fine…for high school. This is college; and you're at different schools, in different towns: where you aren't under her shadow and where you can't keep an eye on her."

Rufus' whiskers twitched at the words and tone. Ron voiced their thought. "Are you saying she'd leave me?"

"Where is she right now?" If Bertie thought her question would not hit a sore spot she was sadly mistaken.

"She's in Upperton trying on her dress for the Formal!" Ron hooted. "And she told me to go out and have some fun with my friends. We trust each other; we've had each other's back ever since pre-K."

"I've never heard anything about this, and I've read quite a bit on Kim Possible." Whitney objected.

Ron grimaced. "We've read them to and they always leave me out and it vexes her so!"

"A likely story." Bethany leaned forward accusingly.

The brunette cut her off. "Every facial cue points to him telling the truth."

"Maybe he's that good a liar." Tiffany said.

"Or he's that delusional." Whitney suggested.

"Perhaps." The girl in the center adjusted her glasses. "But he can't hold up under an extended interview, whether he's being deceptive or delusional. So prove your love, Don Croptable."

"Stoppable…Ron Stoppable!"

"Anger baseline established." The researcher emerged in Bertie's voice. "You have our undivided attention, Ron Stoppable.

"Convince us."

WTOS

"Uh, thanks." Kim stirred her cappuccino while desperately thinking of a reply. "But you can't underestimate the dress. Monique knows her stuff. She's been sketching for me for some time now. She's more than my designer; she's my best girl friend. Of course by that I mean girl friend not girl friend. I mean, I am going to the dance with Ron. He's my boy friend boy friend and I'm really rambling aren't I?"

The young designer smiled. "It's quite all right. After all, it's been a long day for you."

"You don't know the half of it."

"And thank you for coming with me. I normally would not have asked you, but it has been my experience that extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary actions."

"Extraordinary. You know that describes Monique. I'd not really had a tight girl friend until I met her." Anxious to keep control of the conversation, she gave a recount of her time with Monique, in particular her role in combating the Fashionistas.

"I never would have solved that case without her help. Not to mention she designed my spakin' new mission outfit."

Salehe laughed. "You've convinced me. But please, before you tell me any more about Monique, could I ask you a question? And please, give careful consideration before you answer. I am sure Monique has told you of my tendency to…evade. Well, the time comes when one must be bold, seize the opportunity. You know, faint heart ne'r won fair lady.

"Okay." She breathed out.

He leaned forward. "Kim Possible, we have known each other only for the space of this evening, yet I feel utterly at ease with you. That gift has allowed me to overcome my sometimes crippling shyness to ask you this question: a question upon which might well hinge my future happiness.

"Kim..."

WTOS

"And then she kissed me."

This time five girls sighed. Bethany and Whitney wiped tears from their eyes. Brittany appeared to be staring into a dream and Tiffany could not hide a touch of jealousy. Even Bertie's expression could only be described as smitten.

"All that after the heat of gridiron battle. It's like a novel set in the Civil War." Brittany gushed.

"I can't believe we missed it." Whitney shook her head.

"We never watch ESN." Tiffany said simply.

"It actually made the 'Play of the Week' reel." Ron said.

Rufus held up a paw and extended fingers. "Hink! Number Three!"

After the laughter died down the girls all slid a little closer to Ron. He swallowed. "Gee, look at the time. The fellows must be missing me and I bet Kim will call at any minute."

"Aw, Ron, do you have to go?" Tiffany pouted with full red lips. "It sounds like you have a thousand more stories you could tell."

"And I know a much more private place where we could hear them." Bethany said in a sultry voice.

Both Ron and Rufus went a little pale. Being surrounded by admiring females was still the newest of experiences. These girls were not taken with his flair for philosophical discussion, but women entranced by his story of love. "Look, I've got to go."

"Awww."

"Seriously, ladies."

"Hink! Yeah!"

"All right. Why do you always find the good ones after they're taken?" Bertie's jaw tightened a bit, but she relaxed in a moment. "How about one more drink? You've been talking and talking."

The swallow had reminded Ron just how dry his throat had become. He looked at Rufus. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. Chocolate malt?"

Rufus nodded eagerly at the suggestion.

"I think we can take care of that." Bertie opened her purse "Tiffany, it's my turn to pay."

"Got it." The strawberry blond made her way over and gave the order. She took the card out of its protective slip case for the cashier. While the young man rang up the charge, Tiffany slipped crushed something that was in the case. No one saw her pour the fine powder into the two malteds.

WTOS

"You see that, you see that?" Steve smiled. "Now they're giving him a drink."

"And then he'll be back over?" Amal asked.

"One would think so. Apparently the females are vacating their table." Mac actually appeared surprised when the party made their way across the room and out of the door.

"Ron went with them." He said.

"A legend." Steve whispered.

Amal's take was different. "Maybe they were taking him back to the dorm. Did you see his expression? It was like he wasn't all there."

The team mate disagreed. "Oh, Ron's there all right…he is in there! Trust me; he's in for a night he'll never forget!"

WTOS

Ron woke up with what had to be the worst case of brain freeze ever. _Feels like Shego blasted me between the eyes. _He tried to bring a hand up to his temple but he could not move. Glancing down he saw the restraints.

"Aw, man. And this wasn't even a mission!"

A woman's voice came down to him. "Bertie, the subject is conscious."

"Whitney, he's not a 'subject' he's Ron." Bertie stood over him, a lab coat over her street clothes. Her companions clustered around her in coats of their own. The dark haired woman smiled at Ron. "Are your comfortable?"

"Uh, not really, but aside for the Seniors, I've never found lairs to be that comfortable."

"Lair?" Bertie laughed. "This isn't a lair. We're in Uncle Bert's old basement. I will complete tonight what he started over twenty years ago. Don't worry; I've turned it into a proper lab."

Ron looked around. He was strapped down on an operating table. Rows of tables held all manner of computers. There were centrifuges and other lab equipment. The floor, ceiling and walls were all gleaming white. On one post was a poster reminding the reader that from the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success. He looked back at Bertie.

"Okay, it's a lab. More of mad than evil scientist."

"Thanks, Ron." His captor smiled to her friends. "See, considerate even when being honest. Isn't he just perfect?"

"Yes." They sighed.

Their response piqued Ron's curiosity. "Perfect for what? What gives, Bertie? And take your time; I'm used to listening to master plans from this position."

Bertie nodded magnanimously. "For you, Ron, anything. Actually, you may be the first person who could appreciate what I'm doing. You're definitely the first one in shape to listen.

"Ron, when I look in the mirror; I don't see a mad scientist violating the laws of man and nature. All I see is a girl. A little cute, a little quirky, undeniably brilliant, but that isn't always useful in social situations. And like a great many girls, finding the perfect man is high on my list."

The lab-coated entourage nodded in agreement. Ron wrinkled his brow. "Dates? This is all about dates? I could've set you up with Amal, Mac and Steve. My old pal Felix is at MIT, I'm sure you two would hit it off."

Bethany shook her head. "Dates aren't the problem. It's finding the right man. Somebody whose goals go beyond getting past your clothes: who wants to get under your skin and into your soul."

"Quite right." Bertie said. "Finding the right guy, harder than ever! From the ever increasing fragmentation of society, to overspecialization in academia and the ever-shrinking common ground, it's increasingly difficult to connect on enough levels for a truly lasting relationship."

"There is the internet." Tiffany noted.

A groan escaped Bertie's lips. "You've been talking with Trudy again, haven't you? Look, I'm happy for her, I really am, but she's the exception that proves the rule. For every rose plucked, a hundred grab a handful of thorns."

"Uh, what's botany got to do with me being tied down to a gurney?" Ron asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry: just the hundredth time we've gone down that side road in this conversation." At Bertie's signal his bonds were checked. "What it comes down to is this: if a girl wants to be happy, she's going to have to make it happen."

"Like when Kim asked me to the prom?" Ron said.

"Exactly! Though be fair to yourself; you did express your feelings first. But how many of us stay in one place long enough to fall for somebody they've known since Pre-K?"

"Yeah. I'm lucky space centers don't grow on trees."

"Anyway." Bertie continued. "All of the old systems for meeting the right mate are failing, and society's fluidity makes training one yourself into a tremendous risk."

Brittany agreed. "You know the new saying: behind every great man there is a starter wife."

"We're wasting time, Bertie." Whitney butted in. "Show him what you've done!"

"Turn his table." Bertie commanded. At the order the entourage rotated his table ninety degrees. They stood on both sides of her. Something clearly lay behind them. The dark haired mad scientist of love cleared her throat.

"The book shelves groan under the weight of relationship books. How to find the right man, how to seduce the right man, how to train a guy into becoming the right man. Such strenuous reading I just don't understand, when in just seven days…"

"And seven nights!" her companions chanted. They stepped back and to the sides, allowing Bertie to back up.

"I can make you a MAN!" She gestured to the table behind her. Its contents lay under a sheet. Monitors stood near the table, chirping and beeping. Another machine appeared to pump a green fluid through tubes to whatever was hidden under the linen. Ron even thought that he could hear a mechanical heart beat.

"Come on, Bertie, let's see it!" her friends pleaded.

"Not yet. Not until he's finished." Bertie replied.

Ron shuddered in disgust. "You mean you're going to go Frankenstein on me? That's sick and wrong! It's wrongsick! WRONGSICK!"

The cute face wrinkled defensively. "It's not 'wrongsick' it's a major advance in medical science…and romance."

"Come on, Bertie, what's so romantic about stitching together a monster out of corpses?"

"He's not a monster!" Bertie snapped protectively. "And he's not stitched out of corpses."

Ron's eyes bulged. "You mean…the parts came from living people?"

"Not exactly." Bertie replied quietly.

"Just tell him." Bethany said.

"Yes, tell him." The others chimed in.

For a moment Ron saw the girl he first noticed as he had walked over to the table at the Nook. "All right, Ron. This house belonged to my Uncle Herbert West. Years ago he came here to the Medical College to do some post-doctorate work. He had been studying with a genius in Europe. Their objective was to break the boundary between life and death. We're not talking any mystic mumbo-jumbo here. Uncle Herbert set out to reaminate dead tissue. His goal was to cure the ultimate affliction…death itself!

"Of course, the small-minded, the jealous, the hide-bound worked against him. He was forced to conduct his experiments in secret under less than idea conditions. There were unfortunate complications."

"Complications?" Ron swallowed.

"Pretty nasty ones. My family's law firm helped shush things up." Brittany nodded.

"Great gains often come at great cost." Whitney said philosophically.

"But Uncle Bert was right." His niece held up a vial of florescent green liquid. "This is his reamination formula. It can restore life to necrotic tissue; all the way to the organism level!"

The triumph in Bertie's voice was short lived. "There was a problem, though. If the subject had been dead for any length of time, they revived in a persistent feral state."

"A wha-?" the boy knotted his brow.

Tiffany explained. "There still are a few at the Arkham Asylum. They're kept under constant sedation, and are never released from their restraints."

Bertie took over again. "An unexpected opportunity showed the formula effective in restoring the immediately dead to full awareness, but they awoke Uncle Herb's worst enemy. He's responsible for the ultimate disaster that befell my uncle.

"A friend held onto Uncle Herb's research. After I received my fellowship he contacted me. I've improved the formula. Not only does it revive, it can rejuvenate tissue. Eternal youth and immortality are now within reach!"

"But you're still going all Frankenstein!" the boy all but shouted.

"I am not." His captor sniffed. "But you're not the first to misunderstand me" She pointed to the Eelees. "They laughed at me when I first broached the plan to them. Then they learned how the world is not high school. They've been helping me ever since."

"Helping you rob morgues."

The accusation made Bertie scowl. "Haven't you been listening? You don't want fully necrotic tissue. We harvested at the moment of, or just after, death."

"So you killed people?" _C'mon, Monkey Power! Fine, be that way. The Lotus Blade! Yeah, here, Blade, here boy!_

WTOS

Across the continents and oceans the Yamanouchi School knew that the Lotus Blade had been summoned. It was not a pleasant discovery. Sensei called for a phone, and others were reminded of the effect of gravity on refuse.

WTOS

"Are you finished yet? You really should calm, you're pushing your blood pressure through the roof." Once Ron stilled out of frustration Bertie resumed.

"Once they understood this became a real team effort. First we needed know when and where we could find the proper donors."

"That's where I came in." Tiffany grinned. "I worked out the morbidity tables that let us figure out when the types of people we needed would become available. Your father's work was really helpful for this stage, Ron."

"You know my Dad's work? Are there actuaries in your family?"

"No, Mom and Dad are in high finance, but risk assessment is risk assessment."

Bertie spoke again. "Once we knew a donor would be available, Whitney's mother used her hospital administration connections to get us in and out without any problems. Brittany's Dad's law firm handled any legal problems. Bethany was in charge of transport."

The girl nodded. "Mom got 'Hurried Courier' in the divorce settlement. You know the motto: 'It's on time or on our dime.'"

"And so Project Dreamboat was born." The girls looked expectantly at Bertie. "Now, three years later we collect the final piece: the lynchpin for the perfect man."

"Uh, I'm still using my ears." Ron said hopefully.

Peals of laughter echoed in the lab. Whitney recovered first. "It's not your ears. No offense, but they're…"

"Huge." Brittany snorted.

"Enormous." Tiffany chortled.

"Just plain big." Bethany added.

The teasing incensed Betie. "Enough! I sometimes wonder if you all really are mature enough to take part in this endeavor. Ron's gift will make my creation a true man: loving and loyal."

The last words sent Ron into another set of struggles. "Oh, man! I was really fond of that!"

"Aren't we all?" Whitney leered.

That brought a withering glare from Bertie. "You're so superficial. What we want is so much more important."

For the fist time she touched him. Her fingers trembled. "He has what every girl wants, whether she watches Picture Perfect Princess or Agony County. The one thing you can't find through calculation. You have to seek it to find it. We were in the Nook to plan out our worldwide search…and it walked right up to us!

"In here." Her fingers touched his sternum. "Loyal. True. Brave. A lover's heart. A hero's heart. Lovingly harvested from your rib cage, and placed within my creation."

"My heart! But…"

Immediately, the lovelorn girl was the scientist again. "I know I know, the emotion of love is primarily centered in the limbic system of the brain. This is really more of a symbolic gesture than anything."

"You really think THAT'S the part I'm worried about?" Ron shouted in disbelief.

"Prep him!"

WTOS

Instead of a question, Salehe dove into a long rambling story of his inability to establish a relationship and how he hoped he had at last found the courage, and the right girl, to rectify his problem. It was so sweet, so flattering, so, so…

Kim smiled feebly. Then a desperate idea hit her. "Oh, Salehe; my phone's vibrating."

_Come on, Ron. Call. _When she flipped it open it was blank, of course. She hit the speed dial. "Looks like he was cut off; I'll ring him back."

WTOS

Ron's phone buzzed on a nearby table. The boy exulted. "That's KP!"

Bethany stepped over to the table. "It's Kim Possible!"

"Don't panic!" Bertie said sharply.

"You better panic now and avoid the rush." His threatened heart swelled with anticipation. "You haven't seen biscuit kicking like when she sees me tied up. Just ask WWEE."

"It's off." The assistant breathed in relief.

"The Kimmunicator's next. She'll take one look from it and be on the way!"

"Destroy it before it turns on!" Tiffany shouted.

"Idiot! Destroy it now and she'll know for certain that something's up." Their leader's steely resolve calmed the Eelees.

"What do we do?" Bethany asked.

"We you always do in a situation like this: wait."

WTOS

"No answer." Kim fumed. "Maybe I should use the Kimmunicator."

"Why, is something wrong?" Salehe asked.

Kim glanced up and looked into the sincere eyes across from her. _Yes, something's wrong. I'm hiding behind Ron, using him to avoid an awkward sitch. Time to be a grownup._

She smiled at Salehe. "No. I'm sure he's having a good time with the guys."

WTOS

"Oh, man! Where's a jealin' Kim when I really need one?"

The Kimmunicator's silence prompted the Eelees to sigh with relief before resuming their assigned tasks. Lab coats came off, surgical gowns went on. Hands and forearms were scrubbed thoroughly.

Whitney wheeled over a set of gas canisters and attached a mask to one. "I'll be your anesthesiologist today, Ron."

"Are you certified?"

"No…but I've seen it done lots of times. Besides, we really only need to put you under."

That brought shouts for help from the boy. Bertie raised an eyebrow. "I soundproofed the entire basement. Now quit thrashing and screaming before you hurt yourself."

There was one last card to play. "They'll find me, you know. You can never get rid of all of the evidence."

The mad scientist's mad niece was unfazed. "Oh yes we can. Robots sweep and vacuum this lab twenty-four seven. As for…you…do you have any rites you would want performed before we consign your remains to the lab's incinerator?"

"Incinerator?"

"It's the safest and most efficient way of dealing with unused parts and test subjects. I worked on a lot of animals to get this right."

Alarms went off in Ron's head. "Animals? Rufus! WHERE'S RUFUS!"

"He's fine." Bethany assured him. "He's in a cage on the cabinets sleeping. We'll take him to your dorm and release him while he's still asleep. He won't remember a thing."

WTOS

A beady eye opened. Bars covered by a white cloth came into focus. Whiskers twitched, bringing a scent to his nose. "Hink! Mickey!"

Voices came through the fabric. He could hear the girls from the Nook, four of them as flighty as ever. Then he heard Ron's agitated protests. Rufus jumped up and ran to the cage door. It was latched shut. After a moment's consideration he put his paws together overhead and brought them down slowly to his chest and took in a deep breath. (The move did not come from Yamanouchi, but an old episode of Space Passage.) Paws shot out to grasp the door and rip it from its hinges. He peeked out from under the linen.

Ron lay strapped down on a table, his shirt torn open. The girls from the Nook stood around him. One wheeled a tray over to Bertie, who took off its cover and nodded.

"Laser scalpels, bone saw, spreader, clamps. All set. Bethany, give his chest another swab."

"Oww! Cold!" Ron yelped.

"Whitney, put him under."

"Yes, Bertie." Whitney took the mask down from the canister and opened the valve just enough to make sure it was working. She started to put it over Ron's face. "Just count back from ten and all will be fine."

"Fine? How do you figure I'll be FINE?" He tried to avoid the mask but it drew ever closer.

No one saw the pink missile launched itself from the cabinet. Rufus grabbed the mask from a startled Whitney, snapped it over her face and kicked the valve wide open. She did not get down to eight.

Bethany grabbed at Rufus. The naked mole rat jumped up, grabbed her surgical mask and rammed his head into the tip of her nose. "Eeeee!"

Next he flew under the wide slash of Bertie's bone saw. He landed on the tray, scooping up a laser scapel.

"Rufus, standard procedure!" Ron yelled.

"Hink! Roger!" the little guy sprang from the tray to the first row of buttons he could find. They were next to the neighboring table. He raised a foot over a flashing red button, a grim smile on his face.

The Eeless gasped in horror. Bertie took command, tossing laser scalpels to her lieutenants. "Bethany, wake Whitney! Brittany, Tiffany, let's fry the rat!"

"Hello, it's a naked mole rat!" Ron called.

It was 'Space Passage' in real life. Lasers lashed out at Rufus, while he pushed buttons, flipped switches and occasionally returned fire. Pumps feeding the tubes snaking under the sheets to the still form sped up and the trickle of green fluid became a flood. There was no alarm because shot up alarm systems tell no tales.

The naked mole rat jumped down to the floor and took off. He planned to sneak back around and free Ron. Unfortunately, Bertie instantly divined the plan and knew her lab's layout much better. Within moments Rufus was hemmed in between walls and cabinets. Bertie, Brittany and Tiffany were joined by Bethany and a (mostly) awake Whitney to block his escape.

His laser battery was dead so he put it down and took up a fighting stance. Bertie's smile faltered when she pressed the button to her scalpel, only to find hers was just as useless. A quick check by the Eelees showed that everyone was in the same shape.

"Brittany, where did you get these batteries?" Bertie growled.

"Smarty Mart, they were ten for a dollar."

"Best if used by March 2006." The mad scientist read. "Guess we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."

By now Ron had stopped shouting encouragement to Rufus and was straining to hear what was going on. The only sounds were the heavy breathing of young women and a naked mole rat's growling. He was not the only one to notice the utter quiet.

"Listen, Bertie, the pump's off!" Tiffany shouted.

Bethany pointed at Rufus. "He must have done it when he was on the console. That rat scuttled our dreamboat!"

"Hey!" Rufus responded indignantly.

This time Ron did not even bother with the zoology lesson.

"We aren't the first trail blazers to suffer a reverse." Bertie reminded her companions. "Let's take care of the vermin problem and start over. We even have a new base body to work from."

Everyone tensed for the final struggle when Tink! Tink! there was the unmistakable sound of a glass rod striking a beaker. The showdown forgotten, women and naked mole rat hurried to the source of the sound.

WTOS

Tink! Tink! Salehe tapped a spoon against his coffee mug. Kim started.

"Uh, what?" she asked.

"You've been just smiling for the past minute. It's as though your mind was somewhere else."

_I was just imagining what sort of mischief Ron and his friends were getting into. Oh, come on, Possible; remember what Mom and Dad say about honesty. _"Salehe, you're a nice guy, but…"

The young man's face fell. "I'm not her type?"

"It's not a question of…wait, did you say 'her' type?"

"Of course." He nodded. "I have been trying to work up the nerve to ask Monique out ever since first saw her. But she's just so popular. I was hoping to get some advice from you but if you see no hope for me."

Relief flooded over Kim. "No hope? I wouldn't say that."

"Then what should I do? What should I say?"

Kim's gave a broad smile. "With the bold be bold. I think you'll like the result."

WTOS

They found Ron still strapped to his table. Another had made the noise. He used surgeon's hands, hands that had played concert piano for relaxation and had worked their way through college and medical school as a masseur to set down the glasses. Upon seeing the young women the man swung a tri-athlete's legs off of the table and stood up. Sheets fell to the floor.

"Bertie," Bethany gasped "where did you find that?"

"A DVD signing of 'Retro Raunch' at Arkham's Dirty Little Book Store."

Whitney sighed. "I was wrong, Bertie. You're not a genius, you're a goddess!"

The object of their adoration gazed on them with the smoldering fearless gray eyes of an old adventurer. His movie star face broke out in a winning smile. A brain made up from a dozen savants provided thoughts, a poet's tongue organized the words that were expressed by a singer's vocal chords. "I don't call any of you 'mother' do I? That would be…awkward."

Bertie shook her head. "No. You can call us your creators."

The man tilted his head slightly. Even florescent light did glorious things for his platinum blond surfer-god locks. "Then I suppose the proper response is worship?"

"Oh, the feeling is so mutual." Brittany breathed.

Through supreme effort Bertie regained control over herself. "Well…"

"Call me Adonis, or Eros or Mitch." He smiled at Bertie. "You can call me anything."

Dark eyes fluttered. "Adonis…no, Mitch, Mitch is more mainstream. Mitch, we need you to lie back down on the table. There's another vital step to take in your development."

"What? Is something wrong with my work? I've put an independent power source in the artificial heart and sealed my chest. Nice work, don't you think?"

"Perfect." Bertie agreed. "But we have a donor here…"

"I'm not a donor! Donors are willing!" Ron shouted.

"Quiet." The girls growled before gazing again on the masculine perfection before them. After a moment Bertie spoke again.

"You'll have a human heart, Mitch. A perfect one: loyal, brave, loving."

"Bertie." Mitch reached out and removed the surgeon's cap from Bertie's head, caressing her cheek in the process. "Or is it Roberta? You do prefer Roberta, don't you?"

Her legs almost buckled under her. "Oh, yes, YES!"

The creation nodded. "Roberta, it would be the perfect heart. But it would be a human heart; subject to disease, aging and death. I know that you plan to replace the reanimation fluid with blood."

"To make you fully human."

"Roberta, sweet Roberta, look at me. There are no surgical scars because the fluid has healed them. There's also no need for any elaborate anti-rejection protocol. Every part of me is perfectly integrated. Put a human heart in me and I'm good for what, twenty, thirty years until time takes its toll? Let me keep this one…until I can come up with something better, of course…and I can stroll through the ages. With a little time we'll figure out how to bring you all along."

"When you put it that way." Roberta melted. She tore her eyes away from him and looked at Ron. "What about him?"

"What about him?" Mitch replied easily. "If you keep him or get rid of him, there will be a search. You can be as careful as you want, but am I not proof enough that you cannot control everything?"

"And he is sweet." Tiffany said.

"Besides, what would his dear Kim say if she knew he left the Nook with five girls?" Whitney observed.

"She'd…" Ron let his head settle back down on the table. "Oh, man! But I've got proof! Wade can scan."

"The drug was all natural." Roberta answered. "There's absolutely no trace of it in you now. Do you think we would have done anything that would damage that dear heart?"

"So are we agreed? No harm, no foul." Five female heads nodded eagerly to Mitch's suggestion. Everyone now looked to Ron.

His phone lay on a nearby table, so tempting. _If I say 'yes' I can call KP…but what would I tell her. That I was showing Amal how to pick up girls?_ He nodded and Rufus followed suit.

Mitch turned his model's torso and started toward the stairs. "You girls show him out. I heard a lot while lying on that table, and I think I can find my way to the master bath. If I'm not mistaken it has a Jacuzzi. After you've seen him off, do remember the champagne in the fridge."

The Eelees saw him off as politely as possible given the circumstances. They certainly did not dawdle. Roberta was at their head. She seemed almost shy again. "Ron, I'm supposed to apologize, I know, but my goal…well, you've seen how it turned out. But this is a much better way to thank you than I had planned." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Well, it's been real…real…okay, I'm not sure what it was." He sputtered.

"Bye, Ron." The Eelees waved before running back down the hall.

"Those treacherous vixens!" Roberta fumed. "Thinking they'll beat me to Mitch! I bet they forget the champagne. That gives me an edge."

She put her hand to the door but gave Ron one last look. "Why don't you call a cab? It's a long walk back to the University from here; I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Man and rodent shared a look after the door closed. "All, right, Rufus that has to go down as one of the three weirdest evenings we've ever had."

The pink head nodded rapidly. "Hink! Phone."

"Yeah, Bertie's right. It's been a long day. We can spring for a cab."

Before he could flip the phone open a taxi stopped at the curb. Three men jumped out. Ron recognized the one who literally slid across the trunk to pull up short on the sidewalk in surprise.

"Katsumara-san! How's it going?"

The young man bowed. "Stoppable-san, so nice to see you. We were…just out on the town and decided to play that little game where you stop the car and switch seats. What is it called?"

"Not sure." Rufus was just as clueless.

"Do you want a ride?" another student that Ron recognized from the Kendo Society asked. "There are three of us already so it may be a bit crowded."

"Dude, I was on the bottom of a fumble recovery today, I'll have all the room I need." He looked over his shoulder back to the house, gave a little shudder and started for the car door. The third student opened it with an oddly grateful air.

"So, Stoppable-san how did your evening go?" Katsumara inquired.

Only two or three other men in the entire would could have truthfully have given the answer he did. "Oh, same old same old."


	18. Interlude

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

My thanks to the reviewers: Gomro Morskopp, Katsumara, osprey2000, CajunBear73, King in Yellow, airwalker999, screaming phoenix, necro-wulf, LoPe21, MrDrP, Shrike 176, whitem, bigherb1, Isamu, aedan cameron, BlueEyedBridagier, Reader101w and everyone else. Hope no one lost anything near and dear to them.

And as always, thanks to the Dean of Cat Herding, Brother Bludgeon.

Chapter 18: Interlude

Myna Payne was not the stereotypical Harvard student. Her family had not been going there for generations; indeed no Payne had darkened a college door until the GI Bill. She was not a Valedictorian or Salutatorian (though you had to go three spaces past the decimal point to see where she lost out there) and while she had been on the Student Council, she had never held high office. Her extracurricular activities had been solid if not spectacular and far from living high off a college trust fund; she had extensive dealings with the Financial Aid Department. So while she not the stereotypical Harvard student, she was an increasingly typical one. And as she watched Kim Possible leave the Head Cheerleader's office, she felt all the rage of the common folk towards the smug powers-that-be.

_Err. Look at her. Too cock-sure to even have an 'I got away with it' smirk! Your comeuppance will come, Kim. Just you wait…_

In her aggravation, Myna did not notice she was being watched. "She does have an effect on people."

She started, glaring at the handsome young man with chestnut hair and dangerously hot matching eyes who leaned against the wall. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Name's Charles, Charles Holder and as to being here." He shrugged. "These are offices, not locker rooms, not that I can't get into private places if I want to."

Her eyes lit up. "Waitaminute, Chuck Holder! Aren't you the DIP that…"

The easy smile vanished. "Yeah, yeah that's me; the guy that Ms Trueheart ruined. She could have just said 'no' and that would have been that but noooo, she had to strike a blow for moralistas everywhere! Why did she have to take me down like that? It wasn't like I wouldn't have let her go. Sure it's hard to believe she'd take that dork over me, but that's no reason to do that to a guy. Those websites have got to be right: she's a lipstick and he's her beard!"

_Of all the swelled heads. I might have misjudged Kim a bit but I can look into that later. Right now a tool is a tool. _"You've got something in mind?"

"Kim may have cost me my standing but I'm still a DIP and there's no better set of guys to have in your corner come payback time. I've got a plan, but for it to work I need something that they can't provide; but it should be right up your alley."

The cheerleader moved closer to Chuck. "I'm listening."

WTOS

From her corner of the Nook, A'lia watched the blond boy leave with the girls from the booth. _Such a bold young man, handsome in his own way_. He looked familiar somehow. Three years ago she had been in Times Square when that television celebrity had faked a stunt from a blimp. The world famous Kim Possible had been there to attempt a rescue. A boy had been with her; could that have been him? Not that it mattered, he was gone. _I guess I did not seem a worthy challenge, or a desirable prize._

Tests loomed in the near future but she could not stay in her room this night. If she had the temptation to call home would have been overwhelming and then she would have had to resist the urge to let her mother send for her. Sometimes her intelligence felt like a curse. Once her father became aware of it he began planning her application to his alma mater. Her acceptance to Miskatonic had been major news in the emirate: the cause of celebration in the Palace and demonstrations in the streets.

"Fools!" her father spat while watching a protest. "Babbling about some 'Golden Age' that exists only in their leaders' self-serving dreams. Life goes forward and forward only. And how can our people ever prosper if we insist on tying one hand behind our backs? Besides, even if I ever do have a son and heir, my eldest daughter shall have an education worthy of her brilliance!"

Being the dutiful child, she had come, of course. Miskatonic promised to be all her father had told her it was and more. Every day expanded her horizons, but sometimes she missed the intimacy of home. So far the other Arab students had proved either dogmatically devout or stridently secular, leaving her isolated among her own kind: the eternal curse of the moderate.

At least here she could go out alone. The last guitarist had been good and she had always enjoyed people watching. Sometimes though, watching was a poor substitute for doing.

A shadow fell across her table. She looked up at the slender young man holding a glass in his hand. He had been with the blond who had just left. At the moment he seemed lost, finally he swallowed and spoke.

"Excuse me, I was on my way to the fountain and wondered if I could get you someone…I mean sometime…" the boy screwed his eyes shut. "Forget it, just forget it!"

Amal started to turn when a voice as soft as the night wind compelled him to stop. "No, please don't go." Eyes dark like the moonless night held him in thrall. "The lilt in your voice: are you from the Emirates?"

"Yes." He nodded himself glad to hear a voice from home. "Though we spend much of our time traveling the ad-Dahna in the old manner. Father honors the past even as he looks to the future. I am Amal ibn Ras al Ghul."

"I am A'lia bint Fasil." She replied with just the right amount of shyness.

"Your father is the Emir of Q'ter, father speaks highly of him." Amal nodded. "Anyone who can hold power in such a place deserves respect."

A'lia's smile was dazzling. "While the days of Palace intrigue are mostly past, I accept the compliment as it was intended. Father is more proud of our people's research: while a tiny place, we hold almost a third of all scientific patents issued to the Arabic world over the past ten years. I rather hope to add to those someday."

"Father is particularly impressed by your father's work on cleaning up oil spills. He says it could factor into…certain plans."

"He would be pleased to know his work is appreciated by his own kind outside the emirate. And yes, I would love something from the fountain…but only if you would sit with me afterwards."

"Of course!" he was off like a light. Moments later he was back with an expression that could not help but induce giggles in the girl. "Uh, what would you like?"

WTOS

From their vantage point Steve and Mac watched Amal return to the girl's table. Soon the two were engaged in conversation, their familiarity increasing by the minute. Steve sighed.

"Our little boy is growing up." He stood up. "I'm off, good night, Mac."

"You're leaving, why?" Ron's suite mate blinked in surprise. "It's still early in this courtship dance. Don't you want to see if Amal…scores?"

The lanky receiver grinned. "Mac, it's not about the scorin', it's about the playin'. Besides, if Amal's as smart as I think he is, he's not looking past getting a date for the Formal. She would look mighty fine at his side. Besides, it's been along day and I've got an oral presentation to finish up after church tomorrow."

He gave Mac a friendly slap on the back. "Don't worry, Mac my man. Between the Ronster and me we'll hook you up."

"Hook me up?" Mac wondered after Steve left. "That sounds painful. And why would I want to be hooked? I'm not a fish."

"You're no fish, but that doesn't mean you aren't a catch." Twice that night, men had ventured from this table to meet women. This time a member of the fairer sex made the advance. She was of average height; sandy blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail. Her face, just angular enough to be intriguing, remained thoroughly and pleasingly feminine. Deep brown eyes hinted at a sharp mind as well. Her smile was certainly winning enough.

Mac tilted his head, plainly confused. "An aggressive female; this is not the norm."

"Welcome to the twenty-first century." The annoyed expression lasted for only a moment. "May I sit?"

Still stunned, he nodded slowly. The girl sat down and extended her hand. "Ima Lyon."

"Ian Makarash. They call me 'Mac'."

"Funny, all the Macs I've known have been big and ugly and dumb. Nice to meet the exception to the rule."

"Pleased to meet you." Mac gave her a close look. "At the risk of sounding blunt, not to mention paranoid, what do you want of me?"

"Are you studying entomology? You're looking at me like I'm some sort of odd bug."

"No, my interest is anthropology, though entomology is quite fascinating." He leaned forward. "Even as we speak, events are transpiring in the Amazon Basin that will…"

Mac shook his head. "I'm getting ahead, way ahead, of myself. Still the question remains, what do you want? I mean, I'm hardly the sort to warrant the attraction of such an alluring woman."

"You have a very roundabout way of flattering a girl." The girl laughed. "And don't sell yourself short. You have a literary quality about you. Why, you look like you could have stepped out of an HPL short story."

"You mean, you know the works of Likework?" Mac started.

"Love them! I had thought about going to school here and studying literature. Sadly, there aren't enough lit teacher jobs to go around, but they'll always need another doctor. Anyway, premed or not, I'm on a literary pilgrimage tonight. They say the best way to see Miskatonic is on a night like this: when you can practically hear the previous generations of students pass by under the light of the full moon."

"Oh, you can…metaphorically, of course. But Miskatonic gives tours, there are even special ones at night in the fall and spring. It would seem more logical for you to join one of those than to seek out a guide of your own based on how closely he hews to a literary archetype."

"A tour group? All canned presentation and hurry, hurry, hurry. No, I want to see Miskatonic the right way: taking my time, on the arm of a real Miski Man."

"The feminine capacity for romantic imaging never ceases to amaze me; though males tend to get equally sentimental regarding their athletic associations." Mac shook his head slowly. A conversation seemed to be going on in his mind. "I will accede to your request. My knowledge of Miskatonic may not be entirely first hand but it is expansive."

Ima smiled. "Then let's get started."

WTOS

"And the Library has a tomb…with real dead people in it and everything?"

"Only two, though the word 'tomb' generally connotes an intimate final resting place. And of course they are dead: putting live people in a vault would be barbaric."

"I just can't believe they actually hold receptions there." Ima shook her head.

"I can assure you that all social functions held there follow the strictest rules of decorum. No one would dream of using the crypt as a buffet table."

Now Ima laughed. "Now that's what I was hoping to find in a tour guide. You have knowledge, passion and a sense of humor."

They continued to walk along; playing a perhaps subconscious game. She tried to draw nearer while Mac kept a distance. Some stared at them as they walked by. The pretty girl seemed so out of place with the gawky boy with the bizarre walk. One boy stopped a bit longer than the others in his group and found himself alone. "Hey guys, wait up!" When they failed to respond he put his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle.

Mac froze. His eyes flew open. "Mac, what…"

Before Ima could finish her question Mac let out a shuddering moan and dove into a bush next to the sidewalk. Ima peered into the bush and its trembling occupant. "Mac, Mac, what's wrong?"

The boy scanned the night sky. "Is it gone?"

"What, is what gone?" She frowned in confusion. "Did you see something when that boy whistled?"

"That, that was a…person?" Relief flooded the pale face.

"One of those boys over there. See, they stopped when they heard him. Don't people whistle where you come from?"

"No, we NEVER whistle. It's…" Mac stopped. "It's more that none of us can."

"Well, nobody in my family can roll their tongues, so I guess that isn't all that weird." She reached into the bush for his arm. "Come on, let me help you out."

"Thanks." He bushed his clothes off. "I'm afraid I have made rather a fool of myself. If you wish to leave now I would understand."

"Not on your life. Besides, you're all scratched up from your little dive. You've handed me the excuse to tour one last place."

"Which is?"

"A dorm room." She said with half closed eyes. "You need someone to help you clean up. Besides, we still need to settle on your tip."

Mac's face was a study in confusion. "But to pay for a tour that way is…excuse me, you did say 'tip' correct?"

"Uh-huh. Do we walk through the front door or do you have to sneak me in?"

"The front door: the days of bed checks are long gone as a result of the Sexual Revolution of the…" he shook his head. "Why am I going on about that? I'm sure you're fully versed in American Social History."

"I wouldn't say that, but it is sociable to see to those scratches. Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

The few people they met all did double takes, especially when Mac ushered the girl into his suite. Ima's eyes widened when they entered Ron's room. "All these pictures of Kim Possible. Is your suite mate a fan or a stalker?"

"Actually he is her companion, though their relationship has yet to be…" he hesitated. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I take…medication via an inhaler and it is time for a treatment."

"Sure, we'll see about those scratches after you're done."

"Thank you." Mac closed the door. Moments later a humming began, so low that it almost failed to register. It was something one did not so much hear with their ears as feel in their bones. Nor was it a steady noise, it rose and fell, ebbed and flowed, almost like a conversation. Perhaps it was talking to the lights. Even with the lights on in Ron's room she could see them. They snaked out from all sides of the door frame like smoke. As to the colors, those seemed to come from a prism unlike any she had ever seen. The door to the hallway began to look quite inviting when everything died down and the door knob turned.

"I'm sorry about that: allergy treatments. I must be every nerd cliché come to life."

"I don't know." Ima smiled. "You don't wear broken glasses, or any glasses for that matter. And you haven't once gone on an on about something I wouldn't care to hear about. Now, may I come in your room?"

"Certainly." Mac opened the door wide. Ima took in the heavy drapes and overstuffed furniture.

"It's just like I imagined a Miskatonic room should be like. Where's your first aid kit?"

"On the dresser; but can I get you anything first?"

"Do you have a diet orange soda?"

"No, but they have them in the machine in the common room. I'll be right back."

Once he left Ima took another look around. The canopied bed was irresistible. Its gauzy screen reminded her of mosquito netting, but no fabric she knew of could make the air around it shimmer like that. Then she saw the object of her curiosity.

She had seen inhalers and even a cpap or two before but they were all square or rectangular. This was, well, conical. Instead of button or dials in the usual sense, only multi-faceted crystals whose inner glow seemed to come from the crystals themselves. The cone itself eschewed the normal black or beige colors of medical equipment for an iridescent gleam like a tiger beetle's shell. Only the tube and mask had an acquaintance with the mundane. _I'd love to give this a closer look, but I'm here for something else._

His keys lay on the dresser beside the first aid kit. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out an antique cigarette case. Instead of death on the installment plan, its inner walls were lined with molding clay. Mac's dorm key went inside and she snapped shut, pressing it together as tightly as she could while ruing the time spent in idle curiosity. Twenty seconds later she opened the case. The imprint was perfect. She had just enough time to clean the key and put in back on the chain before she heard Mac reenter the suite.

"Sorry it took so long. I had to find somebody with change. First I make you wait on me and my treatment, now I hold you up getting a soda. Afraid I'm not a very gracious host."

"You've been an excellent guide and a charming host. And you aren't the least bit conceited, unlike all those academy and prep school boys."

He blushed. "Mom would be glad to hear that. She's always telling me to not get too big-headed over being the first Makarsah to make…make it to Miskatonic. Of course when you do things like taking that dive it's easy to stay humble."

Ima motioned to the chair-and-a-half. Mac sat down and she began to clean the scrapes on his hands and face. "That was some dive: straight out of an old war movie." Her eyes twinkled. "There aren't any Stukas out there anymore."

"For some time. I mean, Dad was always watching those movies. Mom always says I come by my weirdness honestly."

"You're not that weird." She applied another bandage and sat beside Mac in his chair. He did not flinch this time when she leaned against him. "Hmmm. This is nice. I do want to thank you for a wonderful evening."

"I think I should be saying that. You did the asking out."

"Welcome to the Twenty-first Century." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Keep up those treatments: your skin looks better and you have a light in your eyes now."

"Oh, I will. You could say I'm not myself without them."

Ima's eyes faltered. "Darn, I've got to go if I want to make the Red Line." She started to rise, Mac followed her lead, but they could not both get up at the same time. They fell back into the chair laughing. The boy motioned for her to try again.

"You first. Uh, could I possibly have your phone number?"

The request brought an odd expression to Ima's face. "Let's keep a little mystery for now."

"Oh." Mac almost kept the disappointment out of his voice.

"Mac, don't take it that way. I know where you live, and I did have a great time." This time she kissed him on the lips. "Besides, what could be more fitting than me leaving like this?"

"Walk you to the train then?"

"Sorry. I need to hurry and around you all I want to do is take my time. That's a compliment, by the way."

The boy brushed the bangs out of his eyes. "Thanks. At least let me walk you to the door."

"You bet." The looks were even more intense this time since the girl was still friendly to Mac and he looked like a brand new boy. She gave him one more kiss at the dorm door. The girl walked quickly across the campus to the train station, smiling all the way. The smile faded when she saw someone waiting for her at the station.

"So, 'Ima', how'd it go?" Charles leaned casually against a column, arms folded across his chest.

"I've got what you wanted." Myna Payne pulled out the cigarette case. He opened it and examined the mold.

"Perfect. Now we get this back to the boys and we're on the road to payback." The DIP gave Myna a smile. "Hope your evening wasn't too bad. If you want, I could make it up to you for having to put up with that freak."

"He wasn't a freak." Myna's defensiveness surprised even her.

"Sure, whatever. Just don't get any ideas of going back and revealing everything."

"Are you kidding? Give up my chance on seeing Kim get hers? I can't wait to see what you've got planned."

"You won't have long." Charles smirked. "As a reward, I'll even let you come back with me Thursday. Come on, time to go."

WTOS

Meanwhile the object of their plans nestled in her bed with a tiny sigh. Everything was just as she had left it. She did not stir when the shadow slipped up from the stairway to stand before her closet. The door opened and a pin light illuminated the contents, bringing a frustrated grimace from the sneak.

"It's in the back, Mom. You'd need my hand to activate the touch pad."

Ann Possible jumped, dropping her pin light. "Kimmie! You nearly scared me to death!"

Kim rested on one elbow. "I'll show it to you tomorrow, Mom. You're going to have to wait until then."

"Wonder if a set of your prints would work." Her mother muttered.

"No. It has to be the hand, without gloves or any other covering and at the proper temperature. Only my hand, still attached to a healthy me, will do the trick."

"It was worth a shot." Ann walked over to her daughter. "Now you know what we've gone through all these years around Christmas time. Sleeping in tomorrow?"

"Please and thank you." The younger red head yawned. They shared a hug. "Good night, Mom. Don't come back up unless there's a fire."

"Or the boys are up to another experiment?"

"Same dif. Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, Kimmie. See you when you get up."

WTOS

Kim had just finished dressing when she saw the car pull into the driveway. She could hear the familiar Sunday banter. _Even the Tweebs' voices sound great. _After she put on her shoes she hurried down the stairs to find the family setting up Sunday dinner in the kitchen.

"Kimmie-cub!" the normally embarrassing nickname and smothering hug from her father were gratefully accepted. "Sorry we didn't wait up for you last night."

"It's no big. Sorry for coming in so late. Hope I didn't wake anybody." She gave her mother a sidelong glance.

"Don't apologize." MrDrP said graciously. "You're a college girl now; your curfew days are behind you. Thought I do draw the line regarding who has access to your room."

"You hear that?" Tim asked Jim, eyes glittering with mischief.

The second boy nodded. "Assuming a steady academic trajectory that involves skipping at least one year of high school…"

Tim took up the happy train of thought. "We'll be free in…"

"Four years, eighteen, at the very earliest." Their father interrupted. "Kimmie has proven herself responsible beyond her years. You two…"

"Have how long until you pay off Mr. Barkin's car?" MrsDrP asked.

"If our web consulting keeps going like it is, another year." Jim answered.

Tim frowned. "This would go a whole lot faster if Ron Reiger were helping out here."

Their father waved his hand. "As much as I might want to sympathize with you there, you can't help who gets punished, but you can control what you do. But enough of that for now; who's up for some of Auntie Fantastia's smoked turkey dinner?"

Everyone took their places. When Kim sat down the bench gave a load _creak. _She almost hit the ceiling. "That was a recording! TWEEBS!"

"What was the meaning of that?" MrsDrP asked crossly.

"We're conducting a study." Tim answered.

"Concerning a person of Kim's metabolism and activity level when confronted by the stresses of college life." Continued Jim. "The common weight gain is the infamous 'Freshman Fifteen' but we were betting Kim would do better than that." Her glare elicited a quick clarification. "We mean not gain that much!"

"I'm not so sure now." His brother said. "The creak's volume indicates the amount of weight gained. That was one pound, one ounce. At that rate, assuming fluctuations connected with study and any missions and the press at the end of the semester, she should top out at…"

MrDrP was in full parental mode now. "Boys, scientific curiosity is wonderful thing but it should never come at the expense of another's dignity. You will cease and desist this study at once."

"Yes, sir." They answered dejectedly.

With the maddening science issue resolved the Possibles set about the pleasure of Sunday dinner. Any thoughts of worsening her brothers' sitch by not eating paled before the best take-out dinner in the tri-city area. _Besides, what's less fattening than smoked turkey? I'll be back to salads and exercise tomorrow. _When everyone was finished Kim started to help clear the table when her mother waved her off.

"Tim and Jim can help; if they want to keep their lab privileges. Now, run upstairs and put on that dress! And I want to see the whole look: hair, makeup, jewelry. I know you have it all planned out."

"Right as always, Mom." Kim went upstairs and opened her secure closet. She ignored the exotic equipment and battle suit for Monique's design. It took a little while to arrange her hair and pick over her jewelry. _Ron's necklace and I think the garnet earrings Nana gave me last Christmas. _Always the thoughtful designer, Monique had left the top lining adjustable. Her father would see a more modest dress than Ron. Even before she reached the bottom of the steps to her loft she could hear her mother.

"Kimmie, are you ready?"

"You bet, Mom." She hurried down the hall to the top of the stairs, slowing down to make her dramatic entrance. Then she stopped, but not as per her plans.

"Uh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable."

Her family stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as she knew they would. There was the proud mother, the father with the camera in front of his face and the Tweebs looking most definitely unimpressed. What she had not expected to see was Ron's family standing alongside them. At the moment she wished the bust line could be adjusted to where she could disappear.

"Hi, Kim." Dean and Barbara replied. Hana's response befitted the world-saving ninja baby. The toddler let go of her mother's hand, climbed to the top of the stair banister and ran up it. She jumped into Kim's arms before anyone could breathe.

"Ron!" the little girl shouted. She looked over Kim's shoulders. "Ron!"

Barbara shrugged. "She thinks Ron's with you. She's never seen you without her brother."

Kim shifted the squirming girl onto her hip. "I'm sorry, Hana. Ron's not here."

"No bro-ba?" A small chin trembled. Kim rubbed it with the practiced ease of a big sister and crack baby sitter. Soon dark eyes fluttered and a little head rested on her shoulder.

"Someone is missing her nap." Barbara climbed the stairs. "Ann, do you have someplace where I can lay Hana down?"

"Sure: the study down the hall on the left. It's quiet and the boys aren't allowed to conduct any experiments in there. Isn't that right, boys?"

"Not since elementary school." Jim nodded.

"Radiation levels have long since returned to the same as the regular background signatures of the rest of the house." Tim added.

"Radiation?" the visiting woman started.

Her host shook her head. "You can trust the boys, but if you want verification we do keep a Geiger counter."

"GEIGER COUNTER?"

Ann put a comforting hand on Barbara's shoulder. "Kimmie, could you show Barbara the way and get out some bedding? I'm going to pour up some lemonade and then you can make your entrance again."

"Sure, Mom. Right this way, Mrs. Stoppable." A quick stop at a hall closet produced blankets, sheets and a travel pillow. Soon a pallet was occupied by a sleeping little girl. Two women watched in wonder.

"Just like Ron." Barbara sighed. "The minute you think she's going to drive the world into the ground she runs out of juice." She adjusted her glasses. "Kim, can we talk for a moment before I go back down?"

"Okay." Kim nodded slowly. The 'can we talk' question never, ever boded well.

Encouraged, Barbara went on. "Dean and I are so grateful to have you in our son's life. We never dreamed of this when the two of you were small, and scarcely dared hope for it as you grew up, but here you are; together on the cusp of adulthood."

"Yeah. I wouldn't have believed it myself a couple of years ago. Now I can't see us any other way."

"Neither can we. And we're so grateful that he has you. He's still such a child in some ways: naïve and inexperienced in the ways of the world."

The smile did not falter, but Kim's eyes barely hid her thoughts. _And what do you think I am, the Imperial Highway? I'm not that well traveled myself. _"I know all about his childlike wonder."

"And he wants so desperately to please you." Fortunately Barbara was adjusting Hana's blanket so she missed Kim's furious blush. "It's good to know that when he takes this step into a bigger world he has someone beside him to guide him. Someone more comfortable with it, more experienced."

_Experienced? Did she read some of the gossip on the bathroom walls at the High School or something?_

"Someone who won't think any less of him for being who he is."

"Don't worry. I'll still respect him in the morning." Kim muttered under her breath.

"What, Kim?" Barbara walked back over and led the way out of the room.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Mrs. Stoppable." Kim said with a painfully large smile.

Barbara continued. "We're so happy that he has you with him as she steps out into the public view."

"Public?" now Kim was truly puzzled.

"You know the glare of the public eye." Mrs. Stoppable said. "You've handled the pressure of being world famous so well. Of course you were given a certain latitude when you were still in high school and underage. Now you're considered fair game. I'm sure you've noticed the increased attention since you graduated."

"Come to think of it, there always seems to be somebody with a camera around. It's no big most of the time, Campus Security has been great."

"Well, the tabloids are really in the game now. There were a lot of pictures of you and your friends from that mixer."

"Really?" Kim swallowed.

"Don't worry; you were clearly in control of yourself. Too bad you couldn't say that for that one girl in particular. I don't think your parents saw any of them. And there were pictures of you and Ron out with your friends and the next time you were alone. Actually those were very nice. For the most part they don't seem out to get you, but I'm sure they'd jump if they smelled blood in the water."

"Thanks for the warning. I'm surprised Wade hasn't said anything. Maybe he hasn't seen them; I doubt he visits their web sites." An amused eyebrow went up. "Where did you see them, Mrs. Stoppable?"

"At the beauty parlor and in the check out lines at the Smarty Mart. It's not like I subscribe or anything." She put a hand on Kim's shoulder. "And that is a beautiful dress. I'm sure there will be pictures in more than just a couple of scandal sheets."

"That's what Monique is betting on."

"Anyway, maybe they'll finally get a good shot of Ron. Right now the only decent file photo anyone has out there is the one of him with Bonnie. They don't use that one much."

"I'd love to replace that one," the Homecoming upset victim fumed.

"With this dress, I know you will. Come on, everyone wants a better look."

WTOS

For a second time in as many days Kim put on a fashion show. This time there were hugs involved. There were also more snarks, as Monique was not present to threaten the Tweebs. But when you feel like a million bucks, who cares about a few lame jokes from your little brothers? An hour later it was back to regular clothes. Not long after that Hana awoke to take her rightful place as the center of attention. Tim and Jim at last meet someone they could not keep up with. Fortunately nothing in the lab was volatile, unfortunately much of it proved fragile.

"Don't worry about it." Ann waved off apologies. "They've done a lot worse."

"Look at the time." Dean said while scooping up Hana. "Someone here is due for dinner, a bath and bed."

"Splashy! Splashy!" Hana clapped.

"Thanks for having us over." Mrs. Stoppable hugged Ann and then Kim. "You'll knock them dead Thursday. Have a good time."

"I'm sure we will." Kim answered.

"Let me see you out." Ann said. "James, could you get out the bread? I think the boys left enough turkey for sandwiches."

"Can do. And Dean, Barbara, I'll get double prints of everything I took today."

Ann followed the Stoppables out to their car. Once Barbara secured Hana in her car seat she turned to Ann. "So, what did you think about the top?"

"That lining is definitely adjustable. Your Ron should get quite an eye full Thursday."

"If he doesn't see her from the back first. That's a very flattering number." The blond woman turned a bit wistful. "I just hope they can wait until after the formal."

"Is Kim that obvious? Her father could barely constrain himself, once he finally caught onto my signals. That was one rushed date." Then Ann closed her eyes and sighed. "But he took his sweet time after that."

"They'll be just fine. We have to remember they aren't little kids anymore."

"No, but they'll always be our babies." The two mothers swapped hugs. "You're right; they're ready, as ready as anybody ever is. Thanks for coming over."

"Thanks for inviting us." Barbara opened her car door. As she slid into her seat she sang softly in a light English accent. "Mrs. Possible you have a lovely daughter."

Ann smiled and waved as the Stoppables drove off. "We're rather fond of your son ourselves."

WTOS

All too soon it was time for another set of goodbyes. The DrPs held Kim in a tight hug that was just as fiercely returned. The Tweebs hid their affection behind cartoonish gagging sounds.

Her father let go first. "As much as I hate to see you go, I'd feel better if you had light at least to the Mississippi river."

"I'll be fine." Kim said. "I've got the best auto pilot in the world."

"The best auto pilot is no match for a good pilot. That's why we still have crewed flights." There was a twinkle in MrDrP's eye. "Maybe I should remind Ron that I still have a seat reserved for him if he ever lets you down."

Neither was sure of the other's laugh. "Don't worry, Dad. I couldn't be happier."

Ann gave James a look. "Don't worry about your father, Kimmie. You and Ron have a great time at the Formal."

"We will, Mom. Bye, everybody."

Somewhere over Indiana a familiar sound interrupted her reading.

Beep Beep Beepbeep!

"Go, Wade."

Her web site manager grinned on the dashboard screen. "Hi, Kim. I thought you'd want to hear more about St. Hubbins. Ron's not in the back seat sleeping, is he?"

"No, he's at Arkham. Why?"

"Well, this could get touchy. It involves one of the three things that aren't discussed in polite company."

Kim gave Wade a wry look. "I assume that this has nothing to do with politics or Snowman Hank. What took so long? I thought you had the whole world wired."

"Some places aren't on any grid. I went to several places that don't have electricity. One didn't even have…indoor plumbing."

After a shared shudder Wade continued. "According to my research, the relic that St. Hubbins possessed was the axe blade from the fasces of Pontius Pilate."

"The fasces?"

"You know, the symbol of a Roman magistrate's to mete out punishment. It's claimed he has his men dip the blade into the blood pooled at the foot of the cross."

"So the Church saw this as a sort of Spear of Destiny thing?"_ Who knew that Ron's old video games could be used as reference material?_

"Not exactly." Wade shifted uneasily in his chair. "What they feared was that anything involved in such a perversion of justice could be used for all kinds of evil; even opening the Gates of Hell."

"And we let Shego get away with it." The Crimson cheerleader shook her head. "Any other weirdness going on?"

"I take it you're referring to illegal activity; there haven't been any hits on your site. It's really been quiet, almost too, quiet." By his expression Wade was having a little fun being melodramatic. "There was a theft at a pale ontological dig in Morocco. Somebody took what the expedition believed was a scapula to an unnamed species of siesmosaur."

"That could be worth some big bucks. Any ideas?"

"There are private collectors out there who'd be willing to fork out some serious money, but nobody asked for our help." The computer whiz smiled. "Of course there was some old coot at the scene who had been trying to get the dig stopped. We have footage, let me just patch in my translation program, I don't think you know Tamazight."

Kim watched the Moroccan news cast. The bone pictured had to be from a dinosaur, or a whale. Suddenly the cameras turned from the reporter to an old man who forced his way through the investigators.

"You never should have come here!" he shouted to the paleontologist being interviewed. "So long as it was undisturbed no evil could touch it! Now you've upset the roof of the sky!"

The broadcast went off and Wade was shaking his head. "There's one at every dig. But since they didn't contact us I filed it under news of the weird."

"Well, let me know if anything comes up."

"Sure thing, Kim. I half wondered if there was any connection with Shego's heist in Italy, but she's been sunning herself in Rio ever since. And the only villain you'd expect to pull off any mystical capers has been out of circulation for a while. I'll let you get back to your reading, unless of course, you want some help."

"I'm fine, Wade. Goodnight." The screen went blank, leaving Kim with her thoughts.

_Maybe I should call Ron. No, it's still early and I'm in my reading zone. Besides, it's just an isolated incident. If I tell Ron he'll see spookiness everywhere._

WTOS

**Meanwhile, well, earlier that same evening…**

It was a tribute to Barbara's discipline that, two years after its epic cleaning by her son, the garage was still mostly clean. Only one modest stack of boxes from Dean's actuary work shared the space with tools and two cars. Mrs. Stoppable's knees thanked her every rainy day for making that request for Mother's Day.

The moment she heard the buckle of her car seat release Hana bolted from the vehicle and raced to those boxes. Her clear voice rose in conversation, causing her parents to grin.

"Still talking to the gnome?" Dean asked Barbara.

"Funny, Ron still avoids it." Barbara grabbed Hana's travel bag. "Could you go get her, dear?"

"Sure. Come on, Hana, let's…whoa! What is this?"

Barbara hurried over to her husband and daughter. Hana was nose to nose with her ceramic buddy. Dean was on his knees, scooping something up in a dust pan.

"Look at this." He marveled. "It must have been under the gnome's heel for years."

"What is it?" his wife asked.

"A snake skeleton. Two-headed. I'd say three but that's impossible. The thing Ron used to clean out the garage that time must have weakened the bones. They were intact when I came over, but they dissolved as I swept them up."

"And where did that come from?" Barbara pointed to the intact object in the pan.

"I must have tracked that into the garage when I mowed the lawn Friday. It was in two sets of snake jaws. Funny, it still looks fresh." He walked over to the trash can. "Garbage pickup's tomorrow. I'd better get everything down to the curb."

Hana reached out to her father. "No, no, no, no."

Her mother picked Hana up. "Honey, we always throw the trash away. Come on, Daddy will be back in a minute."

Hana fussed a bit; indeed she teetered on the edge of tears. All that changed with a tub full of bubbles and duckies. A limited attention span can be a parent's best friend.

WTOS

The moon shone cold on the cans at the curb in front of the Stoppable house. Normally the natural light was supplemented by a street light, but it had just flickered and died. Something approached in the night air, but not flying like a bat or fluttering like a moth. Its motion was more like a jellyfish. At least, one would have been advised to avoid the tentacles undulating around an ill-defined body.

One tentacle reached down and lifted the lid to the garage trash can. Another shifted through the garbage until it grasped its prize. Once done it turned what must have been its face to the garage. The hiss was like a cat's only it would have chilled anyone hearing it to the marrow. It disappeared just before Middleton's bells chimed midnight.


	19. With a Song in Their Black Hearts

My thanks to the reviewers:King in Yellow, Katsumara, screaming phoenix, CajunBear73, airwalker999, LoPe21, Gomro Morksopp, bigherb81, MrDrP, whitem, Shrike176, Liselle129, TheRedKommie, nekoken, Reader101w, and all the other readers. Glad most of you found the chapter a good fit.

Extra special thanks to Brother Bludgeon for lyrical assistance.

Chapter 19: With a Song in Their Black Hearts

Not all plans going down that Sunday were fey or evil. Elsewhere, a certain blond running back/sidekick/boyfriend made his way into the lobby of the Arkham Arms. He hurried towards the jewelry store.

"Come on, Rufus, we don't want to be late." The naked mole rat stuck his head out of Ron's pants pocket. His beady eyes held a sour 'hey-I'm-riding-in-your-pocket-you-control-the-speed' look.

There was no need to worry. The proprietor stood at the doorway. When he saw Ron, he took out his keys. "Ah, Mr. Stoppable. Right on time."

The boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for doing this, dude."

"Think nothing of it. True, we aren't normally open on Sunday, but special orders are just that." He opened the door and they walked inside. Boy and mole rat waited eagerly at the main counter while the proprietor went into the back. Soon, he returned with a small black box. He opened it with a professional's quiet flair.

"They're perfect." Ron breathed.

"Hink! Spot on!" Rufus nodded, after giving them the once over with his jeweler's loupe. If the proprietor was surprised that a hairless rodent would have one, he gave no sign.

"Thank you both. It took time to find these stones. They match the pendant in every respect. We did nothing to their surfaces beyond a bit of polishing and attaching the symbol."

Ron held one up. "She'll love these. Just what is this branch, anyway?"

"An ancient symbol of my people; it wards off evil…luck."

"KP makes her own luck, but she'll love the bling." Ron pulled out a roll of bills and counted out the money. "Here you go, my good man: cold hard claude."

"I thank you, and the Arkham Band of the Miskatonic Nation thanks you." The money went into the inside pocket of his jacket, and a large envelope came out. "And here is your itinerary for Thursday. Your boarding passes, reservations, the lot. Passports will not be required."

Ron stuffed the envelope into another pocket of his cargo pants. "Thanks. How'd you get this from the Travel Agency?"

"We own both establishments. Kanti knew you were coming by here today and decided to let me give them to you. She knows how crowded a student athlete's day can be. Have a wonderful time at the Formal…and afterward."

"With KP at my side, it's all good. Come on, Rufus, Bueno Nacho is calling our names."

The sidekick's sidekick rubbed his belly and nodded. "Hink! Nacos!"

There was a final round of 'thanks' and the proprietor was alone. He watched his patron leave the hotel before turning to the business of locking up. Before he stepped out of his shop he took out a phone, but not the one he normally used. The party on the other line had no need to ask the question, the proprietor had the answer.

"Bueno Nacho."

WTOS

Kim Possible was your basic, average girl and, if one does not believe that, there are ways to tell. Prime among her normal traits was a thorough cataloging of the amusing, endearing, bemusing and downright aggravating characteristics of her boyfriend, one Ronald Dean Stoppable. Number Seven on that list: so long as he knew the location, Ron could reach a Bueno Nacho in any city in less than ten minutes. The Arkham Arms stood a good fifteen minutes walk from Bueno Nacho but that assumed a normal person dealing with normal foot and vehicular traffic. Sunday evening traffic proved no obstacle for a Monkey Master. Sensei might not have approved of Ron's twirling from a lamppost to propel himself across the street over traffic, but he would have applauded the fearless, graceful and unnoticed leap.

"So, what do you think, little buddy, a chimmarito, nacos with extra cheese, all grande sized?"

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" On Rufus' eager nod they walked in.

"Ron! Rufus!" The call came from the counter. In their short time at Miskatonic the two had already become fixtures. They strolled up to the young assistant manager.

"Buenos dias, folks, we'd like…"

"Excuse me, Ron, but we wonder if you would do us the honor a taste testing a new product."

Ron's mouth hung open. His eyes glistened. "Me? Taste test for Buneo Nacho? It's true, Rufus, the faithful are richly rewarded." The naked mole rat joined him in excited nodding.

Fred turned to the kitchen. "You heard the man, snap to!" Some people would have been perturbed to see the kitchen staff put on the longer gloves, face masks and goggles in their preparation, but not Ron nor Rufus.

"Here you go." The Assistant Manager laid the tray on the counter. "The Fuegorito. We wanted to call it the Faulknero, but Bueno Nacho has a strict policy regarding using writer's names, they have to be local."

"Then why not go with Likework?" Ron asked.

"We think you'll see why. This is the first dish to actually incorporate Diablo sauce in its preparation. We even substituted it for water in preparing the tortillas. The last step is deep frying the whole thing in chili oil. You will have to sign a waiver absolving Bueno Nacho of any culinary liability."

"It will be an honor." Ron took the offered pen with commendable gravity. An ink pad had been provided for Rufus.

The manager pulled out a pair of nacho (yes, they still serve those) buckets instead of the usual grande cups. "Come back for as many refills as you need. Will you be sitting at your usual table?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "This is a special occasion. There's an urban green space just across the drive through. There are times when you have to go al fresco."

He could hardly contain himself as they walked out with their tray. "A test item and it's not a wrap! Rufus, this must receive our undivided attention."

Across the street an antique Bentley had pulled over. The rear window lowered enough for soft green eyes to get an unobstructed view of their quarry. Yidhra, Goddess of the Outer Dark, rolled the window up and shook her head. When she spoke, each of her companions heard another voice in another language and saw their own vision of loveliness.

"What's he tryin' ta do, Quinn, turn himself into a pillar of salt or a tub of lard? Lucky for the lad's dear mother I'm here to watch out for him."

She looked at the three figures that should not have been able to share even this enormous back seat with her. "I want you to go invite sweet Ronnie to come with us for some home cooking. Come again, Zol? Yes, bring his pet; so long as it's a male there's never been a beast I could not tame. Any others? Sweet Nikias, I'll shield you from any unwary eye so you should not have any problems. You're right, Yosai, should anyone try to stop you: that's their misfortune."

The door opened and three figures hurried into the dusk. Tattered cloaks absorbed the fading light around them. From her seat the Dream Witch wove a spell rendering them invisible to all who were not actively watching for trouble. The boy and rodent unpacking their dinner surely were not on guard.

"This is our lucky day, Rufus."

Three sets of eyes peeked out of the hedges. Their target had picked a secluded spot for their meal. No one would see them stuff the two into a sack made of the same material as their cloaks. In no time they would be back in the car, basking in their lady's praise. Surely, this was their lucky day.

Ron held up his fuegorito. Rufus stood before his. "On three, Rufus. One…two…three."

Even in the hedges the three stalkers could hear the crunch. Ron and Rufus could hear nothing else. All their senses were blown away, their world reduced to the contents of their trays. It was a sublime dining experience.

Neither man nor naked mole rat noticed the hulking form coming up behind them. Massive arms spread wide to sweep up Ron and Rufus. Then something came between predator and prey.

A figure dressed entirely in black propelled his feet into the creature. The attack's momentum drove the cloaked figure back and onto the ground. In retaliation he executed a leg sweep, narrowly avoided by a back flip that put the newcomer squarely between the monster and the table.

The other two figures emerged from the hedges to flank their larger comrade. Their numerical advantage evaporated when a dozen night-clad warriors sprang over the hedges to form a semi-circle between the goddess' consorts and their objectives. The tallest of the three stepped forward, tentacles looping and twisting from his sleeves. His rumbling voice dripped with disdain.

"Ninja."

One of the ninja settled deeply into a fighting stance. He curled the fingers of an extended hand inward in a gesture of contempt. "Bring it on, NOBLE samurai."

Tentacles, hard and multi-jointed like impossibly long insect legs, cracked like whips, leaving long gouges in the sod or ripping branches from the hedges. Ninja twisted and leapt to keep away from the fearsome weapons. One brought up a bo staff, only to have a tentacle wrap around it. The two struggled for a moment, then the ninja let go and the hard wood crashed into the 'winner's' face. Another ninja ran up and delivered a side kick that sent the stunned creature back into the hedges.

The second tall figure swung massive arms at ninjas who darted to and fro delivering strikes that seemed utterly ineffective. One ninja was a step slow and a blow sent him sailing over the hedges. A throwing star to his shoulder only enraged the giant. He charged the thrower, not seeing the mischievous gleam in her eye. She stepped neatly aside at the last moment. The monster found that he had crashed, not through the hedge, but into an ivy covered boulder.

In a world of crunchy sound and spicy fury, neither Ron nor Rufus noticed anything amiss.

The smallest of the three would-be kidnappers now confronted eleven defenders. If the odds dismayed him, he gave no sign. The hooded head turned one way, and then another. Even ninja reflexes found themselves severely challenged by the speed of the attack. Fortunately their traditional keikogi had Kevlar sewn into the fabric. Sparks flew whenever the attacker's strange limbs connected. People spun to the ground from the force of his blows.

With their hand to hand technique failing, Ron's protectors stepped up their game. Nunchuks spun, only to shatter against the monster's forearms. One man brought out a chain. A pincer pinned a link to the ground, then the other arm grasped the chain. Unearthly strength sent the ninja flying through the air. He ended up bowling another three over.

Only one warrior still stood. He wielded a sword, sadly to no more effect than his comrades. The steel snapped and its owner now lay on the ground, looking up at an arm raised over him promising doom.

At the table Ron set down a napkin. An errant breeze caught it. It drifted over to the scene of combat. Paper laden with diablo sauce landed on the terrible limb. Smoke boiled up. The creature sprang back, shaking the limb furiously. The subsonic screams stirred his two comrades into consciousness. They raced over. The larger one took a length of the broken sword and used it to remove the source of the torment. Over at the curb the Bentley's door opened. The two carried the third to the car and they drove off.

In the urban green space, the twelve victors stood and bowed to their enemies, and then to the pair at the table. The usual smoke plumes arose and they were gone.

Ron and Rufus drained their cups. They sighed with contentment, smoke curling from their mouths and nostrils. "Man that was badical! Don't you love it when food is so good that it blocks out the rest of the world?"

Rufus' answer was a prolonged belch.

Keeping dining areas clean was one area that Ron needed no prompting from anyone. An errant napkin beckoned from the grass. The boy picked it up and sniffed the evening air.

"Smells like somebody's boiling crab around here."

WTOS

It was a busy weekend for missions, even by Miskatonic standards. At the John Hay Library a young woman slowly made her way up the steps. Someone thoughtfully held the door open so she could maneuver her crutches through the portal. They were quaintly old-fashioned; more than one patron saw them and thought of Tiny Tim. The cast, on the other hand, was state of the art, down to an electronic implant to stimulate the bone's knitting.

Once she was in the stacks the crutches appeared somewhat less than necessary, though she held them where she could employ them when she encountered the occasional patron. Soon she reached the Solomon Kane Collection. She opened the stimulator at her cast. The ancient lock proved no obstacle. A quick look around and she found what she had come for. For appearances after she left the Collection she found a study area where she read for two hours. She left with no one the wiser.

WTOS

"Well, Rufus, it's been a quiet, productive day. With Amal's help we knocked that paper out, and met his date for the Formal."

The rodent let out a small wolf whistle at the mention of Al'lia.

"Yep, she's cute, but she's no KP. And our plans are in motion, and still secret. Good thing we're not bad guys…at least I'm not anymore. Not to mention Bueno Nacho…just cheese sauce on the naco. Now, let's get inside, KP should be calling at any moment to cap off the day."

He opened the door to the suite. No sooner had he stepped inside than the hackles rose on the back of his neck. It was dark out, the lights were out, shades drawn and Mac was out. Still, it was too dark and too quiet. Perhaps it had something to do with the shadow by his desk. Neither boy nor rodent bothered to get the lights, they took up fighting stances.

In response the shadow stepped forward. "Excellent, you trusted your instincts. Sensei will be pleased that you have taken his lessons to heart." Something flew from a hand, but instead of striking Ron or Rufus it flipped the light switch.

"Yori!" Ron and Rufus forgot training and decorum. Their hugs were returned with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

The petite ninja was, as always, the picture of composure. "I have come out of concern for you, and Yamanouchi. You experienced an unpleasant situation last night, did you not?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know there's a major time difference, but I expected the Lotus Blade to be here by now. Is it stuck in customs?"

"Forgive us for not telling you, but the Lotus Blade is undergoing routine maintenance. This leaves the Blade…temperamental for a time."

"Temperamental?"

"Remember when you recalled the Blade from the chasm the first time you visited Yamanouchi?" Nostalgia shown in Yori's dark eyes.

"Yeah, but I did pay for that." Boy and hairless rodent shared a fearful expression. "Don't tell me it…oh, man!"

"Do not worry, the Alumni have responded wonderfully. We should have the new dorms constructed before the first frost."

"I can pay for that, too." Ron said quietly.

"There is no need, the fault was ours. Please, do not call upon the Lotus Blade until Sensei instructs that it is again prudent to do so."

"Prudent, right."

"Do not worry, Stoppable-san, Yamanouchi had made other arrangements." Yori went back to the desk. She took a crutch and removed its arm rest. A gnarled staff slid out of its hiding place. Rufus' eyes flashed in recognition.

"This is the staff of Solomon Kane, given him by his comrade N'Longa. It may not be as resplendent as the Lotus Blade, but its ties to this school are strong. I do not understand why it has not been given to you already. Take care of it, it will serve you well should the time come."

Ron took the staff from Yori. One slow spin led to another, then another, then another, each faster than the last. He wove a tight, masterful pattern around himself. Then he heard Rufus squeal.

"Oh, man! Even with a mystic staff!"

"Stoppable-san, your high-school antics translate seamlessly into collegiate life." Yamanouchi's representative retrieved Ron's pants. Rufus peeked out from under the shirt that covered him.

"Uh, thanks." Aware of Yori's glance, Ron had an unaccustomed bout of shyness. He grabbed the pants and pulled them on.

"Do not worry. My interest is purely aesthetic. Organized athletics agree with you. Besides, I am seeing someone myself; someone I met at university."

"How is Ninja U?" Ron asked.

She flashed a smile. "It is most agreeable. In addition to honing my ninja skills, I am taking courses in cyber security. This trip even counts towards lab credit. I wish I could stay, but I must get back for classes. Good-bye, Stoppable-san, Rufus-san."

Neither Ron nor Rufus were about to let Yori get past without another hug. "Good-bye, Yori, and thanks. But why didn't Sensei try to contact me himself?"

Her response came with a tiny shrug. "Remember the last time. He feared that should he appear to you, something might get lost in translation."

"Oh, yeah, the Gravy Ghost. Then tell him 'domo' for me."

Rufus nodded. "Hink! Domo."

"Oh course. Good-bye."

The pretty ninja took her crutches and walked out into the hall. Someone stood in his own doorway. Stanley Klinger shook his head.

"Our boy sure is popular with the ladies."

An understanding passed between the two. "Keep watch over him." Yori said with a slight bow of her head.

"Oh course." He returned the gesture.

Inside his room Ron took off his shoes. He needed only one more thing to complete his day. Ring ring.

"Hey, KP, you just get back?"

"Yeah, the Sloth's on its way back to the Howells. I'm putting up my…Savannah, stay away from that dress."

"So, how did it work out with Monique?"

"I don't know why I ever hesitated to let her design for me. I have one spankin' dress. Yes, Savannah, you'll get to see it tonight. You're what? Sure, call the others. Let's get it over with."

"Sounds like my Kimila will be stylin' and profilin' for the ladies tonight."

"I need to be reading and writing." Kim fretted. "At this rate I'll hate this dress by Thursday."

"Don't say that, KP. You're going to be the most bon-diggoty belle at the ball."

"No wonder I still keep you. But right now I feel like a circus pony." She sighed as she laid out the dress yet again. "You're quite the prize. I'm wondering if it's safe to let you roam the streets of Arkham."

"Safe?" Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

The squeak in his voice made Kim smile. "Oh, you know: football hero, naco magnate, and not bad looking at all. There seems to be no shortage of girls in Arkham out to steal your heart."

The Crimson could not seem Ron clutch his chest. "It's still here, Kp, and it's all yours. Did you get Wade's guidance program for Thursday?"

"It's all downloaded. The Sloth has all it needs to get me there. Really, Ron," she chided, "you're being a little melodramatic, aren't you? With all the trackless jungles we've been through and you're afraid I'll get lost going out of town?"

"Just covering all the bases, KP. When it comes to Thursday, the details are all on me."

"I have my overnight bag packed." Her smile was slow and sensual. "Prepped for any sitch."

At Miskatonic a boy thrilled. Somehow he kept his voice at an even pitch. "Wait until you see what I've got planned."

"But I don't want to." Fortunately the puppy dog pout is mainly visual. "I'd love to stay on the line a ply out more details, but I need to get this over with and get back to studying. Bye for now, love you, Ron."

"Love you too, KP."

WTOS

"Oh, Kim that is a winnah!" Savannah clapped her hands, joined by the other girls after Kim took a playful spin in her dress. "You will have to get me your friend's numbah."

"I'm sure she'd like that." Kim knew that Monique had worked at Club Banana for more than just the employee discount. And a designer could never start attracting wealthy clients too soon.

The other Honeys had things to say. Lor put on a sly smile. "Your Monique must be part French: so elegant. Be sure Ron sees zis een public; unless you 'ave no desire to leave ze room."

"Come off it, Lor. That dress is all about desire." Halle's note of disapproval was purely comedic. "Don't expect him to look deeply into your eyes, girl."

"Halle, she's not that exposed." Mala objected.

"I'll say." Max looked at Kim. "You can still adjust the top, right?"

"A little." The red head answered slowly.

Max smiled. "Then what's the hold up? When you've got 'em, flaunt 'em, baby, FLAUNT 'EM!"

"I'll take that under advisement." Kim took a deep breath. "And while you're all here I want to say something. Max, about Saturday."

"No need to thank me. Honeys stick together."

"I'm not thanking you. I don't need anybody fighting my battles: especially when there's no war." The pretty face turned stern. "Myna and I don't get along, but that was no big. Thanks to you, now it is! Another stunt and I'm off the squad. That would leave me tweaked. Trust me, you don't want me tweaked."

The Honeys sat silent before a non-authority figure for the first time ever. Max finally nodded. "Okay, she's all yours."

Tensions eased, prompting Savannah to speak again. "Kim, Sugah, we consider you a Honey now and as a Honey there are certain…obligations."

"Obligations?" Kim frowned.

"Don't worry, they're nothin' big." The Georgia belle laughed. "You've done the first one already: you've shown us your idea of a man-cathin' outfit.'

"Mine was better." Lor said smugly. "Sexy yet utterly Dada."

"A wimple…only a wimple…is not an outfit." Mala admonished.

"But name a man eet would not catch." The tan beauty said.

Savannah put her hands on Kim's perplexed shoulders. "Don't pay Lor no never mind. She was just funnin' with us. Aftah her joke she came out in a darlin' little black dress. Now, for the next thing, it involves the other way you catch a man: the kitchen."

"Wait…wait! Don't you remember my promise to Ron?" _And I never told you why he made me make it. _"I don't cook."

"Aren't you Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything?" Blond challenged redhead. "Besides, we're talkin' bakin', not cookin'. Bakin' is an exact science; follow the recipe and you're fine."

"And we expect something fine." Max said.

"And soon." Mala joined in.

"How does Wednesday night sound?"_ Why drag things out? Ron gave me some lessons. I can use a mixer. And like Savannah said; baking is a science. I can do science. _

"Marvy!" Savannah exclaimed. "Decisiveness is another mark of a Honey. Now, let's leave Kim alone. She has a lot of studyin' to do."

Mrs. Lavater's old students filed out, leaving Kim alone. The dress was again carefully put onto its hanger and covered. When done with that, she sat down at her desk, but she found she could not get back into her readings in comparative religions. Another book called to her, a book of doom. Ignoring warnings and forgetting her pledge, Kim picked up her little book of recipes.

WTOS

Monday at Middleton proved glorious. Fall indeed put on a grand show in Colorado. A sense of anticipation hung in the air. The old man getting out of a rental car definitely shared it. He opened the gate and walked on the path through the beautiful lawn. The cottage was charming. Two raps to the door brought a reply.

"Coming." The voice was irrepressibly cheerful. It fit the woman who opened the door. Society might try its worst to beat down this dowdy, spectacled, gap-toothed woman, but it was not working. Her smile reached her eyes. "Hello, sir. How can I help you?"

He nodded. "Are you Dr. Amy Hall?"

"Yes I am." She smiled again. "Are you from the NIS? I wasn't expecting a visit this week. I haven't done anything to violate my parole."

"No, I am Haman Lichfield, professor emeritus of dead and esoteric languages at Miskatonic University. I am also an admirer of statuary. From what I have heard, you have a most unusual piece in your garden."

"It's not for sale." Amy's fingers drifted to a button on the door frame. One push and the feathered boa constrictor (pre-conviction and registered with the NIS, thank you very much) would literally fly to her defense.

"Do not worry. I am not here to take but to give. May I come in?"

Despite her associations, Amy was a trusting soul. "Please come in. Can I get you anything, a little tea maybe?"

_**Attend the tale of Amy Hall.**_

_**When in love she gave her all.**_

_**Say what you want you're still alone**_

_**When your snuggums has been turned to stone.**_

_**Poor Amy. Amy Hall.**_

_**Mad geneticist of Sweete Street.**_

The garden was picture perfect. At its center was a gazebo with a small comfy chair and table. A statue stood across the table. The sculptor had captured every detail, down to the shock and surprise on the aristocratic face.

"I have my tea with my Montykins every day." Amy said proudly.

"Such loyalty and affection are commendable." Lichfield pulled a medicine bottle out of a pocket. "With your permission I should like to try something. It might make your teas a little less solitary."

What choice did she have? With her permission secured, Lichfield opened the bottle and dipped his finger in mud dredged from the floor of the Sea of Japan. He traced a symbol onto the stone forehead. Words not heard in many centuries passed over his lips.

There was a sound like ice cracking. Stone turned to dust, fell away from the head as it shook. Monkey Fist, flesh again from the neck up, blinked at the morning light.

"Montykins!" Amy's rapturous rush brought a sharp rebuke from the Englishman.

"Amy, please. The last two times you knocked me over. This time it would be painful in the extreme." She settled for giving him a peck on the cheek. He glanced down at the lip stick on his cheek. "Great, how will I remove that?"

His gaze turned to the old man. "And who addresses me in the lost language of Mu?"

"Haman Lichfield, at your service." The old man bowed. "Always a pleasure to meet another student of the strange and wondrous. So, you know the language of Mu?"

"Actually, it was my master who recognized it. After all, he did help the Dagon drag it beneath the waves. You've intrigued him: what do you want of me?"

"I need you to procure something for me. Something that has recently surfaced in Arkham."

The cruel eyes narrowed. "You are part of a cabal, if I am not mistaken. Why not use your organization?"

"We cannot risk discovery at this juncture." Lichfield replied. "You have skills unlike any other. And you are known for your interest in the occult as well as a willingness to seek bounties. We would be only one of many explanations for your actions should you become connected to the deed."

"Cunning. The Yono admires cunning. Still, what do I stand to gain?"

"A big hugsy-wugsy!" Amy's exuberance almost made Monkey Fist's stone shoulders shake. Lichfield smiled.

"It may interest you to know that a certain rival of yours is a student at Miskatonic University."

Monkey Fist's eyes lighted up. "Stoppable, at Miskatonic? The world surely has gone mad in my absence."

"Has it ever been sane?" the old linguist asked sharply. "Now, we want this to go quietly, but Stoppable is indeed an obstacle to our eventual plans. Do not seek him out, but should you encounter him…"

The wheels in Monkey Fist's minds spun until they practically threw off sparks.

"Yes…yes! We have an accord!" Dust flew in all directions and Monkey Fist burst out of his stone prison.

"And you have a partner!" There was scarcely time to register surprise before DNAmy's flying hug took the two of them into a flower bed.

Lichfield turned back to the cottage. "I'll leave you two alone for a while."

"No! That will not be necessary!" the hairy hand reached up from the flowers. Smooching sounds rose into the brisk morning air.

"Oh, but I insist." The old man chuckled. "By my estimation, Miss Hall has certainly earned her reward."

WTOS

Fall days pass quickly, even when one is looking ahead. Monday and Tuesday classes and practices blurred into each other for both Crimson and Miski Man. Myna's behavior baffled Kim. There were no exchanges, and Myna studiously avoided any contact with Kim so she never got the chance to apologize for Saturday, but the girl seemed every bit as focused on Kim as ever. It was as though she were trying to make up her mind about something.

Wednesday provided a chance. Myna and Kim both stayed a little late to work on a routine. Before she could slip away Kim came up to her.

"Myna?"

"Yes, Kim?"

"Look, about Saturday. I didn't know what was going on. I'd never do anything like that. They promised to leave us alone to work this out on our own."

"Work what out?" the other girl's lip twitched.

"Well…I'm not sure." Kim confessed. "We just don't seem to get along."

"We don't" it seemed to relieve Myna to say that. _Like that justifies her somehow._

"That doesn't mean we can't try to move past that. Maybe…"

"What, you want to go talk?" Myna looked doubtful.

"Sorry, I can't tonight. I have something planned."

"Of course you do, with your fellow trust fund buddies, no doubt."

"Actually, yes."

"Thought so." She spun on her heel, giving Kim no chance to talk.

"Maybe another day." Instead of going to her dorm, Kim headed to Harvard Square. She made several purchases before going to an apartment complex. Borrowed keys and memorized codes gave her access to a small flat with a fully equipped kitchen. Kim took out her recipe book. Next she laid out her purchases: the finest ingredients, organic where possible. The cell phone sat on the counter, tempting her.

_No. I have to do this on my own. Remember what Ron taught. _She took a calming breath and pressed the button to start the mixer. The gentle sounds soothed her. No one was there to stare at her when she took it into her arms. Everything was in order. In two hours the Honeys would arrive, plenty of time to knock out a killer dessert. After all, there was nothing she could not do.

WTOS

If Kim was doing something new (and potentially wonderful, or disastrous), Ron was hewing to his routine. Equipment bag over his shoulder, he raced into the Student Center, determined to make it to the Kendo Society on time. "Oh, man! They started early again."

"Hink! Going hard."

"You're right, Rufus. They look out of breath, and that takes a lot."

Takeshi turned to the door and bowed. The others followed suit and Ron and Rufus returned the gesture of respect. "Stoppable-san, right on time. Please ready yourself."

Ron walked over to where the others had left their bags. Three club members sat on the chairs behind them. They were rested, but certainly not well. One wore a neck brace; the second had a cast on his arm while the third wore something under his shirt. He recognized them from Saturday night.

"Katsumara-san, what happened? There weren't any accident reports in the school newspaper."

"It was another form of incident. The kind you do not report." Katsumara shifted his chair to face Ron.

The latecomers looked at each other. "Ah, frosh hijinks, got it." Ron gave the trio a wink.

His comment made the three laugh, though the one with no visible cast ended up wincing. "Three cracked ribs. They should heal nicely. Thank you both for your concern."

After gearing up, Ron and Rufus stretched out and walked onto the floor. The class turned and bowed, seemingly grateful for the breather. His coach and club faculty sponsor nodded. "Kendo teaches us to be prepared for whatever life may bring. Only a fool supposes to always know what form of opponent or obstacle awaits him. In that spirit, I have decided to introduce a different dueling platform for today."

Part of the ceiling slid back. People gasped at what descended. Some may have groaned, but not Ron and Rufus. They exchanged high fives and waved at the figure above.

"Rufus, it's show time!"

WTOS

"All right, Possible, it's show time!"

The kitchen showed all the signs of furious activity, but it was by no means a disaster area. She had the ingredients mixed and ready. All she needed to do was add the binding agent. The water steamed in its pot, bubbles signaling the coming boil.

_All right, here it goes. But do I want a gentle boil or a rolling boil? It doesn't say! Give it another min._

Another minute passed and now the water threatened to spill over the sides. It came off the heat. She knew better than to dump it all in at once. Slow pouring and careful stirring led to a mixture of swirling colors and textures.

"Hmmmm, Guess it's supposed to be like that. All right, into the greased pan and into a preheated over at 350 degrees for thirty minutes. There! Just like Savannah said, an exact science."

Life is not fair in so many ways. How often do children pay for the sins of their parents?

In this case, Kim had selected Nana's brownie recipe over the lemon squares on the basis that virtually all women love chocolate. Nana had always turned out perfect brownies using this recipe. However, Nana baked with all the care of the demolitions expert that she was. Penciled on the back of the original card were instructions dealing with altitude, humidity and other factors. None of those warnings were on Kim's card. She had copied her mother's version, which had lacked any additional instructions. Ann had copied this at a time when the young wife is forging her own identity and has little use for a mother in law's advice. So Kim did not adjust for the lower altitude or higher humidity.

In all fairness, though, Nana's original recipe did not cover what to do when the forces of chaos walked the night, either.

WTOS

The night air thrummed with anticipation of various kinds. In Cambridge five girls clustered at a door. A redhead opened it.

"We stopped for some sushi at Shabu-Ya." Halle teased. "That way we knew we'd have something to eat tonight."

"Don't listen to her." Mala took in a deep breath. "It smells divine! How long until they're ready?"

"Another fifteen minutes." Kim answered. "Plus ten minutes cooling time."

"Then we're set." Savannah smiled. "We had just enough to take the edge off of our appetites. But everyone still has an empty dessert box."

Everyone sat in the living room, talking and laughing. The nerves subsided, and Kim actually found herself looking forward to what came next. _This is going to go well._

WTOS

"Oh, man, the Ron man's got it going on!" Ron exclaimed to his suitemate. "I've got the ride, the suit, the tickets, the gift, and now I have the last part." He closed the refrigerator.

"I'm set, Rufus is set." The naked mole rat stopped covering his own little tux to give his best friend a nod. They both looked back to Mac. "I just wish you had let me and Steve try to find you a date for the Formal."

Mac's expression changed. Normally studious and detached, he was now the confused, pensive boy holding out his Dear John letter. "Perhaps you are right. It was just; she seemed so, so…it was easy to talk to her. I opened up to her as I haven't since…"

"Dude, I know." Ron patted his friend on the shoulder.

"I should have known when she declined to leave an open line of communication."

"At least she was subtle. My rejections usually came with exclamation points. Just ask Rufus."

"Hink! Hit the road, Jack!"

Memories flooded over Ron. "Not so good times. Are you still coming to the Formal, Mac?"

His friend nodded vigorously. "There is no way I would miss the Formal. The perpetuation of such traditions in a culture obsessed with change makes for an irresistible scenario. And of course there is the situation with Ms. Possible."

"Mac, you don't have to be so formal. It's like you're from another time; like the fifties. Be sure to call her 'Kim' when I introduce you to her."

"But won't that cut into your time with her, and on a night you…have so much planned?"

_Hope her Dad isn't as onto things as you are. _"Mac, we've had dates interrupted by evil plots and natural disasters. It's no big. 'Sides, Kim wants to meet you."

"And I do want to meet a woman of such renown."

"Oh, she's everything you've heard. Saved the world a dozen times over, we know, we helped." Both Ron and Rufus puffed out their chests.

"The world, yes." For a moment it seemed like Mac's mind was elsewhere. "Funny how perspectives shift over time. Once Jawaharlal Nehru was known mainly as Motilal's son."

From the shrug Rufus had no idea what Mac meant either. Ron decided to let it go. "Sure. You'll love her, Mac. Just don't get any ideas about stealing her away. Once they've had a taste of the Ronman, there's no substitute."

"No going back?" the strange student shook his head, "Actually, no never mind. It will be my honor to meet her."

"Always is, Mac, my man. Unless you're some superfreak up to some serious baddage."

At 'superfreak' Mac's eyebrow rose. "I can assure you, sir, that my intentions are purely academic."

Watchful of hurt feelings, Ron responded quickly. "Relax, man. It's all good."

Mollified, Mac rose. "I look forward to tomorrow. We both have studies, if I am not mistaken."

The book on his desk brought a sigh to Ron. "You're right. Later."

Once Mac went into his room, Ron took his seat at the desk. He knew better than to try to read this one on the bed. "Hope Kim calls soon."

In response Rufus picked up Ron's cell phone. "Nah, she'd figure out I'm avoiding studying. With Thursday evening and night gone, a flight Friday and a big game Saturday I can't afford to let this go. Can't amp down on the potential, not with both KP and Dr. Spengler counting on me."

Ron barely stifled a yawn_. And I thought 'Lo, the Plow' was bad. This would be a good time for somebody to get up to something bad._

WTOS

George Street was settling in for the night. Bright lights spilled out from restaurants and bars, showing that they were open. In contrasts, lights dimmed or went out in shop after shop. Lights went on in upper stories of several, as many proprietors lived above their stores.

Across the street from the store called 'Curious Goods' a couple sat at a curbside table. One, a dark man with a darker expression, sipped tea while his female companion talked merrily away. Not so long ago the chatter would have driven Lord Monkey Fist to distraction, but the first lesson learned from Yono the Destroyer was how to adapt the patience of stone.

DNAmy giggled at an aside Monkey Fist missed. "Ah, Montsy-Wontsy, isn't this the perfect evening?"

"Yes, perfect." The aristocratic villain drawled. "And it just got better. Mr. Marshak has put out his light. By the time we get into position he should be sound asleep. Time for us to go."

The waitress came over to the table after the couple left. As she had feared the foreigner had left no tip. Fortunately his date was more than generous. She had even left a drawing on her napkin: a cuddlebuddy.

_Boy that was one strange pair. To each his or her own I guess. They do fit together. Good for them. _

Meanwhile Monkey Fist and DNAmy crossed the street and slipped into the alley. Within moments Monkey Fist had removed his outer garments to stand in ninja garb. He handed the street clothes to his partner in crime.

"Hold these and stand lookout. I shall only be a moment."

"But, Montykins, I can help…"

"This calls for the speed of the monkey. You've been more than helpful already."

He took the hug with surprising grace, and then he picked the lock. As he expected, the mundane security system was no problem. The other defenses were much more impressive, not at all limited to any time, place or belief system. One great stone Chindit in particular proved a challenge. Only by flattening himself on the floor was he able to slip by without a fight.

The basement beckoned. He passed by several shelved until his reached his objective. The box opened. _Yes, it is beautiful. _He slipped it under his obi and closed the box. Sappy eyed cuddlebuddies watched him leave. (Monkey Fist had read the invoice carefully. Even if DNAmy had been able to avoid gushing over them, no doubt she would have insisted on taking at least one, giving away the crime. With luck it could be days before anyone was the wiser.) Repeating his earlier moves, he soon resumed his stroll down the streets of Arkham.

WTOS

Ding!

Kim and the Honeys looked up. "That's the timer." Kim announced. "You all just wait here."

All five girls rose up instead. Savannah spoke for the lot. "Sugah, the unvalin' happens at the oven. Let's go."

Heavenly aromas caressed the girls as only chocolate can. Halle nudged Lor in the ribs. "Maybe your soufflé is about to fall."

"Impossible!" the French girl scoffed. "Mine was perfect; the best dessert any of you 'ave ever eaten."

The boast brought a rise out of Max. "If I recall, you guys licked your plates clean when I served my confetti cream torte."

"And there was almost a fight over the last piece of my gulab jamun." Mala said.

"There were all good." Savannah noted. "But don't forget, I showed ya'll that when you do it right there is nothin' humble about a peach cobbler."

"You didn't say anything about your dessert, Halle." Kim hoped she had not touched a sore spot.

The future defense attorney was unruffled. "I used a recipe Mom picked up while helping defend some Kurdish activists in Ankara. It's called a cigarette pie. The guys couldn't get past the name. But they didn't leave any, either."

Nerves rose again in Kim. _Am I trapped in a world of master chefs and bakers? _They settled as the delicious aroma elicited excited chatter from her friends. Not worried about brownies falling, she opened the oven door quickly. She grabbed the pot holders and reached into the oven. Anticipation swelled. The pan went onto the cooling rack and everyone clustered around; and just as quickly recoiled. After a moment they leaned forward for a second look.

"Kim, I've heard of a tunnel of fudge cake." Savannah swallowed. "These wouldn't be called Martian brownies, would they?"

The fluorescent counter lights were thrown back by the sheen of oil. Instead of Nana's gentle rise in the center, she had an alien landscape. Parts rose like tiny volcanoes, spewing more oil onto the surface. No hint of solidity showed itself.

"It says cool for ten minutes." Kim said hopefully.

"And then what, mop the surface?" The worst thing was the utter lack of snark in Max's voice.

The breaker of her oath to Ron had another idea. "There's ice cream to go with them: vanilla bean and French vanilla."

"Do you have any flavored weeth bicarbonate of soda?" As with Max, Lor was not being sarcastic.

Beep beep beepbeep!

Surprising how often the call to action served to rescue the heroine. "Wade, thank…I mean, go Wade."

The computer genius stared at Kim. "Kim, have you been cooking?"

"Baking. Please don't tell Ron."

"I won't…so long as there aren't any medical reports to cover up." Her silence relaxed Wade. "There's a hit on the site: a break in."

"Where's the lab?"

Wade shook his head. "It's not a lab, and it's in your neck of the woods, more exactly in Ron's neck of the woods. The hit comes from Arkham. I know it's not the type of call we normally take, but there's something about this one."

_And it gets me out of here. _"I'm on it. Call Ron." A much relieved Kim looked up from her Kimmunicator. "I've got to run. Just throw the brownies out and help yourselves to the ice cream."

She ran to the back room and changed into her mission togs. The Sloth settled down at the curb outside. Everyone waved as she took off.

Max spoke first. "I say we toss the pan too. It isn't some heirloom pan or anything, is it, Savannah?"

"Just recyclable steel." The belle shrugged.

Lor was thoughtful. "I wonder, should we tell 'er about our first efforts?"

"If she stays humble." Halle replied.

WTOS

Ron Stoppable stepped out of his dorm in his mission outfit. The last glove went on with a sharp snap. Rufus stood on his shoulder wearing turtle neck and gloves.

"Bring it on, bad guys, the Solomon Kane Fellow is READY!" He looked to his side and sighed. "Wish they still gave you the rapier. That would be so cool."

"Hink! Staff?" Rufus suggested.

"Nah. We'll just go with the mad-fu skills. You can probably summon the staff like you can the Lotus Blade."

Normally jaded students gaped when a magenta Sloth came down from the sky to wait on the street, its top down. In the driver's seat was the world-famous Kim Possible. Any hope in a dozen hearts that the come hither gaze was for them was dashed by the voice rising behind them.

"Make way, sidekick coming through." He put a hand on the door and vaulted into his seat. Kim rewarded his feat with a kiss.

"Smooth move. Between football and the Kendo Society, Takeshi is really improving your grace."

"You should have seen the class tonight. Bledsoe had us sparring while swinging from ropes. Said the Physical Plant wouldn't let him bring in a chandelier." Ron buckled in and leaned back. "Where are we off to?"

"George Street."

WTOS

The store lights were on when they got there. An old man, bald, bearded and with eyes that seen many, many things, met them at the door. "Welcome to Curious Goods. I'm the owner, Jack Marshak."

She took his offered hand. "Kim Possible. This is Ron Stoppable and Rufus."

"Please come in." Mr. Marshak led them past shelves laden with items of every description. "I have your friend on my computer monitor."

Wade's image filled the screen. He studied the empty box on the table. "Hey, Kim, Ron. So, Mr. Marshak, you're sure it was in here?"

The old man nodded. "I checked everything when the shipment came in last week. I planned to research it tomorrow. Something compelled me to get up and check on it after I had turned in tonight. Apparently someone broke in and stole it after I went to bed."

"And what was stolen?" Kim asked.

"Silver-handled straight razor. English. Nineteenth century. My purchasing agent secured it from a London wax museum. They had been using it as a prop. The curator noticed that traffic had dropped off at the exhibit, and those who did stop by had a disturbing air about them. He was more than happy to sell."

The field portion of Team Possible looked at each other. Kim spoke. "So you're saying the razor's…"

"Cursed." Wade interjected. "Mr. Marshak, I thought your manifest could detect cursed objects."

"It does." The old man put his hand on a rather large and old book resting on a podium. "It can identify any cursed object whether it was sold here or not. Perhaps it's possessed instead."

"It doesn't seem to make much difference to me." Wade mused.

"There is. It's just the sort of fine distinction that evil thrives upon. If there was no difference it would have been detected and would be in the safe now."

With countless hours of Zombie Mayhem under his belt Ron felt qualified to ask the next question. "So are we talking demonic or ghostly possession?"

"Ghostly. Demonic possession would show up as a curse." Mr. Marshak sat down and rubbed his eyes. "Razors have often been used as weapons and weapons can be possessed by the spirits of their wielders, their victims or both. In the past when we were hunting cursed objects sold from this store we often had to wait for news of strange events. My old associates have moved on. At least you're willing to listen. If I called the police I would have to send them out totally unprepared."

"I'm not sure what I think, but if you told the police what you just told us they'd lock you up," Wade said, doing his best to sound like he disagreed with that course of action. "Still, they'd have already done something that we haven't."

"Mr. Marshak, did you find any clues?" Kim asked.

"This was on the shelf by the box."

Kim, Ron and Rufus stared at the coarse, dark hair in Jack's hand. They passed on Wade's offer to do an analysis. They knew what had been stolen, and by whom. The red head was in full mission mode.

"Wade, we're looking for Monkey Fist."

WTOS

Arkham was not merely a college town. Generations there had made their livelihood from the sea. Her docks still hummed with life; serving fishermen, shippers and merchants. And, as from time immemorial, there were those who catered to or preyed upon seamen. Not even the grim Puritans of Solomon Kane's time were able to fully stem the tide of hawkers, hustlers and working girls. The flotsam and jetsam of humanity continued their ebb and flow along new asphalt, aging concrete and ancient cobblestones.

Two people made their way through the crowd. One, a bonnie lass, drew people to her, some with honorable intentions, others less so. Whatever their designs, they turned aside upon meeting the eyes of her partner. Menace rose from the man whose hand never strayed far from his jacket pocket.

The walk from the store had begun calmly enough. They were just a couple on a casual evening stroll, clearly above all suspicion. Everything went well from George Street until they reached the hill overlooking the harbor. Monkey Fist walked at an ever-quickening pace, mumbling as thought something was yearning, turning, burning within. Even DNAmy's incessant chatter could not impinge upon his blackening mood.

Yet not all of his father's instructions had been in vain. If he could not bother to listen to the woman, at least he knew how to ask a question that disguised the fact. "I'm sorry, what was that last bit?"

The large woman took his arm, thrilled at his attention. "I was just saying what a great time I'm having with my Munky-Wunky. A little caper followed by a walk along the bay, what could be better? And the people here are just darling!"

Her last words made Monkey Fist flinch. His eyes darted left and right. He locked eyes with a would-be pickpocket, who scurried away before he could bring his hand out of the jacket. "Oh, Amy, please. Open your eyes."

His words came hard and fast, dripping with disdain.

_**There's a hole in the world like a big black pit**__**  
**__**and the vermin of the world inhabit it**__**  
**__**and its morals aren't worth what a pig can spit**__**  
**__**and it goes by the name of Arkham.**_

_"You don't like the sea? But you're from an island." DNAmy cackled. "Maybe that explains it. And something tells me a cottage wouldn't cut it either. That's okay, I know what would be right up your alley."_

_**In a tree, Montykins, that's the life I covet,**__**  
**__**In a tree, Montykins, ooh, I know you'd love it!**__**  
**__**My monkey man and me we could be alone**__**  
**__**In a treehouse, built on our own,**__**  
**__**Up in a tree!**__**  
**__**Wouldn't that be smashing?**_

Monkey Fist just shrugged.

_**Anything you say...**_

_Caught up in her dream, DNAmy went on._

_**Jungle trees all around, we'll have fresh bananas **__**  
**__**You can call me your 'Jane' you'll be my Tarzan-ah!**__**  
**__**Ev'ry night, in the kip, you'll look oh so cutsie,**__**  
**__**Velvet gloves on your hand-like footsies!**__**  
**_

_**In a tree,**__**  
**__**Ninja monkeys playing!**__**  
**__**In a tree!**__**  
**__**And the branches swaying!**_**  
**  
Monkey Fist glared at another passerby before replying.

_**Anything you say, anything you say...**_

Whatever had driven Monkey Fist into his poetic fury had DNAmy in its grip, though in her the direction was fully, if bizarrely, domestic. Her accent changed from flat Midwestern to almost cockney (all right, it was dead common.)

_**New Cuddle Buddies I'm makin,'**__**  
**__**Their DNA strands breakin,'**__**  
**__**Your monkeys chattin',**__**  
**__**'Ooo, ooo!'**__**  
**__**So happy I'm singin,'**__**  
**__**Then I go swingin,'**__**  
**__**With you-ooo!**__**  
**__**Ooo-ooo!**__**  
**_

_**I'll warm me bones on the jungle canopy,**__**  
**__**Have tea and scones with me fav'rite man-monkey,**__**  
**__**Then I'll make somethin' furry**__**  
**__**While you watch Fists of Fury**__**  
**__**Unless we've got better to do-ooo!**__**  
**_  
Monkey Fist clung to his response.

_**Anything you say...**_

DNAmy went on.

_**Think how fun it'll be goin' wild and wacky**__**  
**__**When it's just you and me and your monkey lackeys!**__**  
**__**And all the cuddl'y things that I made from scratch,**__**  
**__**Ev'ry Friday, a brand new batch!**___

_****__**In a tree!**__**  
**__**Don'tcha love the weather?**__**  
**__**In a tree!**__**  
**__**We'll grow old together!**__  
__**In a treehouse,**__**  
**__**Ooo, ooo!**__**  
**__**In a beautiful tree!**_

She leaned her head against Monkey Fist's shoulder. (She already had him by the arm, what could he do?) DNAmy was speaking now.

**"Oh, I can see us now, in our loincloths!  
You in a nice, faux-fur leopard print, and me... stripes, perhaps."**

Again she picked up her cadence.

_**It'll be so quiet,**__**  
**__**That who'll come by it,**__**  
**__**Except a simian**__**  
**__**Ooo, ooo!**__**  
**__**We shouldn't try it,**__**  
**__**Though, 'til it's legal for two-hoo!**__**  
**__**But a treetop wedding could be devised,**__**  
**__**Me rumpled bedding legitimized!**__**  
**__**Me eyelids'll flutter,**__**  
**__**I'll turn into butter,**__**  
**__**The moment I mutter I do-oo!**___

___**In a tree, in our nest, we could share our minions**__**  
**__**With the odd paid request from our fellow villains,**__**  
**__**Have a nice cutesy beast with a taste for heroes,**__**  
**__**Gobble those meanies up like gyros!**__**  
**_

_**In a tree,**__**  
**__**Married nice and proper!**__**  
**__**In a tree,**__**  
**__**We'll get there by chopper!**__**  
**__**To the treetops,**__**  
**__**Ooo, Ooo!**__**  
**__**In a beautiful tree!**_

"What do you think, Montykins?"

Normally he would have shuddered at the implications but his mind was awash with dark and bloody visions. "All things in due time, Dr. Hall, and now is not the time to discuss such things."

"What about Dr. Lichfield?" DNAmy wanted to know.

"When he calls, he calls. I have the feeling he is giving us the chance to wrap up affairs. Now, we must prepare our reception for Kim Possible and her companion, Ron Stoppable."

WTOS

Team Possible drove down the streets of Arkham, on the lookout for two decidedly suspicious characters. Kim gripped the wheel a bit tighter. "We know DNAmy somehow got hold of the statue of Monkey Fist. She must have found some way to free him. At least those two should be easy to spot."

"Yeah, just look for a chase scene." Ron's quip made Rufus giggle.

"Ron, that's not nice. DNAmy's a sweet person when she isn't being a criminal."

"Wasn't dissing Amy. The Ronman's all about accepting people the way they are. My favorites still are green-eyed redheads with mad crime fighting and kissing skills."

_I am so more than just keeping you. _Kim switched on the dashboard screen. "What do you have, Wade?"

The smug look was just what Kim was hoping for. "Someone's rented a warehouse down by the docks. The renter was looking for one with a super high capacity power grid."

"A good sign." Kim agreed.

"Today there was a delivery to that address. A truck load of top-quality feed for all kinds of animals."

"Okay Wade, how many pounds of bananas?" Ron asked resignedly.

"None. There was food for pretty much any other animal but no monkey food. I figured you'd ask that, Ron, it's such a primal concern of yours. Get it? A 'primal' concern?" The youth's smile faded. "All right, it wasn't my best."

Relieved that was over, Kim reentered the conversation. "Directions?"

"Already in your navcomputer. Good luck, guys." The normally jovial face turned serious. "Good luck, guys. We don't know what Monkey Fist has learned."

"We will, Wade. Engaging flight mode, E.T.A. five minutes."

Once they took off Ron cleared his throat. "Uh, KP, about Monkey Fist. Maybe I should go in first."

"Why, Ron?" she asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

Even without ninja training Ron would have known he had just blundered into a potentially deadly trap. The boy swallowed. "Uh, you know, the whole arch-foe thing."

"It's not just him. We have DNAmy with who knows what." Her face softened. "Tell you what, let's just follow SOP and go in as a team."

This pleased Rufus, the eternal guardian of Team Possible's relationship. He pumped a paw into the air. "Hink! Go, Team!"

"Good call as always, KP."

Everything settled back into the usual mission mode. Kim pointed out their destination.

"See the flashing lights? Expect some major freakiness."

WTOS

In the warehouse DNAmy rushed about her machines, humming cheerfully. Monkey Fist wore his normal kung-fu garb, performing an elegant form with the razor in his hand. He could hardly take his eyes off the keen edge.

"They should be coming shortly." The woman said. She drummed the re-sequencer console in eagerness. "Shall we begin our little family? I know it may be out of proper order, but are we that proper to begin with?"

The statement was most unusual for DNAmy, but Monkey Fist's grin matched it. Even more vicious than normal, it had no trace of the monkey. Only humans could present that level of malevolence.

"Alas, my monkey ninjas are no longer with me. Perhaps after this I can rebuild my clan, but until that day." He cleared his throat.

"**These are desperate times, Dr. Hall, and desperate measures are called for."**

DNAmy's fingers flew across the controls. The machine flashed and glowed and the door opened, mists rolling out ominously.

"**Here we are, fresh out of the genetic re-sequencer."**

Monkey Fist asked with interest.

"**What is that?"**

The first Cuddle Buddy emerged, much to DNAmy's delight. Walraby - a walrus with wallaby legs so it could hop up and skewer down.

**It's a beast. A cutesy widdle beast**

Monkey Fist tried to look past the Walraby.

**Are they all that large?**

DNAmy puffed her chest out with pride.

**Some twice that size, at least!  
Then again, though I love them all the same,  
That one's pretty tame**

Monkey Fist shook his head, doubt filled his voice.

**Awful lot of fat**

Of course, the geneticist had a reason.

**Suits ice habitats  
**  
Reason seldom trumps taste. The observer scowled.

**Haven't you got primate or something like that?**

But the creator had taken experience into account.

**Well, you see, the trouble with primate is Poo-throwing instincts increase.  
Try this beast!  
**  
Again the machine flashed and smoked. Another bizarre combination emerged; a Peliconda - An anaconda with the head and legs of a pelican. DNAmy sighed with satisfaction.

**This one's rather nice**

Monkey Fist shuddered.

**Such a bizarre splice**.

DNAmy gave care and feeding instructions.

**All his food must be, if you follow, much bigger to swallow than mice!**

Monkey Fist took the tone of a man at a fine haberdashery.

**Anything that's mean?**

A third Cuddle Buddy waddled out, a penguin with its flippers replaced with crab claws. Like any good merchant, she had an angle for pitching her wares.

**Well, then, if you're monarchy loyal you might enjoy King Crab-Penguin! Claws like guillotines. Even got a temper like a wolverine!  
**  
She was winning him over. Monkey Fist pointed with interest at another emerging creature.

**Is that bear over there?**

**Mercy no, sir. Look closer.**

**You'll notice it's gopher!**

Monkey Fist was not convinced.

**Looks broader, more like otter.**

DNAmy pointed.

**No, it has to be gopher—Look, see!**

The oversized gopher pops out of a hole he had somehow dug in the floor. Pulling out a little radio and setting it at his side, he pressed a button and began a sprightly, if somewhat mechanical, dance to a tune by Kenny Loggins.

_I'm alright  
Nobody worry 'bout me  
Why you got to gimme a fight?  
Can't you just let it be?_

Monkey Fist waxed pedantic.

**The Origin of the Species, dear-**

His companion was not listening. She was quite beyond normal biology.

**Quite a lot to choose  
Every zoo a smorgasbord for us …**

**-is changes wrought over millions of years**

DNAmy gave him a conspiratorial smile.

**The ideas I used should give this song at least one more chorus...**

Now Monkey Fist got it.

**Old Darwin's revolving in his grave—**

They looked at each other, delighted to be on the same page.**  
**  
**Evolution in less time than it takes to shave!**

Monkey Fist gawked.

**What is that?**

A pile of wool appeared to be dragging itself along the ground. Dr. Hall was not surprised.

**It's Mop  
See that wool on top?  
Well I used a sheep's fleecy coating  
To hide a surprise 'til it hops.  
**  
"Mop" leapt up into the hair, revealing a mouth filled with rows of teeth.

DNAmy was on a roll.

**And I've just begun-  
**

Cuddle Buddy number six was a cheetah with pointed quills instead of fur.

'**Ere's a Porcucheetah - so prickly  
Its feet move so quickly -  
See it run?  
**  
Monkey Fist had truly entered the spirit.

**Quite a job well done  
Moves just like it was shot right out of a gun!**

Next emerged a beaver with sharp buck teeth and bat wings.

**Beavampire  
Fearsome flyer**

Again her friend found an objection.

**No, that beaver tail really  
Makes it look too silly.**

A giant condor with shaggy fur and horns.

**Then Yakdor-  
Look at it soar**

**Ah, but its fur is a bit overdone  
"Come now, how can it even judge where it's going with all that hair in its  
eyes?"**

The two moved to the mad music that only they could hear. Monkey Fist sang again.

**I think I pity the world, my pet**

At being called 'pet,' DNAmy's eyes shone.

**Yes, yes, I know, my love!**

Monkey Fist looked at the beasts, the wheels turning in his head.

**These beasts, abominable as they can get**

DNAmy waltzed over and took his arm. They moved together, the abominations bobbing along as best they could.

**Our own sideshow, my love**

The nobleman's grin was ferocious.

**We'll set them all loose, the great and small  
And they'll stop anyone-  
**

**Hero, heroine-**

DNAmy smiled at a vision of her own.

**Can't do anything-**

They looked into each other's eyes, alive with the power before them. They sang together.

**Can't do anything-**

**At all!**

From their vantage point Kim, Ron and Rufus watched and listened. Rufus swayed slightly and hummed to himself. Ron could not repress the shudder, or the dread in his voice.

"That's a lot of ugliness."

"I don't know about that, Ron. The Bevampire is kind of cute…in a homicidal way." Her eyes flashed at the prospect of action. "Let's do this."

They opened the window and jumped onto a stack of crates. The unnatural menagerie saw them first, with Monkey Fist and DNAmy whirling around.

"Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable," Monkey Fist purred, "to what do we owe this **pleasure?"**

The Crimson had an answer. "You've stolen something, Monkey Fist."

"Just me 'eart." The large woman beside the mad nobleman cackled. "Ain't that right, luv?"

The grimace lacked the usual fear of commitment. "Another time, Dr. Hall. At the present, I believe they refer to this!"

He whipped the razor of his sash and snapped it open. Not even the lights from the re-sequencer could account for blade's gleam. The shine reflected in the eyes of each villain. Clearly a much deeper madness was at work that night.

"Ron, what's going on?" the mystical, real or imaginary, was one area where Kim felt no hesitation in asking Ron's opinion.

Her sidekick/boyfriend could not tear his eyes from the blade. "Bad mojo, Kim. Bad mojo." The next words were not spoken, they were crooned.

**I can feel it coming in the air tonight.**

As if on cue Rufus peeked out of his pocket.

**Hold on**

Like any arch foe, Monkey Fist was quick to pick up on his nemesis' thoughts. He smiled and sang back.

**I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life**

He brought the razor over his head as though it were a sword. "You've taken something from me, Stoppable, you and that little rodent of yours. And I intend to take it back, even if I have to cut you both into a thousand pieces."

"Hey," Ron shouted. "Hold on! HOLD ON!"

Monkey Fist sprang forward with a horrifying screech and flashing blade. His rival barely jumped away from a swipe that sheared through a crate. The next strike cut deeply into a steel support column. Fixed on his fleeing, dodging prey, Monkey Fist did not see the small rodent jump to the floor.

The King Crab Penguin waddled at Kim with claws extended. She easily vaulted over it, using her momentum to strike the Walraby high, and the poor thing lacked the balance to stand up to such a strike.

Mop leaped from the ground for her throat. Kim stepped to the side and caught the creature by the fur. She swung it over her head twice and let go. It took the Beavampire out of the sky.

"Oh, me poor dears! Set upon by such a 'eartless 'arpy!" the mad geneticist seethed.

Km shook her head. "Why are you sounding like Mrs. Potts?"

"I'm not Mrs. Potts." DNAmy snapped. "I'm not Mrs. Iselin and I'm sure enough not bleedin' Princess Gwendolyn! Whot I am is the end of YOU!

"Porcucheetah!" The weird hybrid arched his back, loosing quills at the redhead. Keeping ahead of the first volley, she stopped just in time to avoid the second. The deadly quills drove into crates, providing a set of spring steps that Kim used to gain the top of a high stack of crates. Another set of quills sailed at her, only to be sent into new trajectories by well-timed blocks.

Behind Kim's stack a second duel was raging. A running fight, but a fight none the less. Tai Sheng Pek Kwar has no place for doomed heroic stands. Move and watch and wait were among its primary strategies and that suited Ron Stoppable just fine. He rounded a corner with Monkey Fist in hot pursuit.

"Oh, man! Dead end!" In front and on two sides rose walls of bags labeled 'Henco Mutant Animal Chow: Isotopically Balanced Nutrition'. Behind him a fell shadow fell.

"Dead indeed." His pursuer blocked the only exit.

Suddenly two giant quills landed at Ron's feet. He scooped them up and moved forward, combining the Two Swords technique of Miyamoto Musashi with the rapier and main gauche style of Bledsoe. Normally he was not this aggressive, but he had to free himself from the trap that held him.

"Impressive, Stoppable." The razor flashed and Ron retreated, holding quill nubs. "But in the end quills are only long, sharp, hallow hairs and I hold in my hand the finest razor of all time."

Not even a haunted blade could match the fire in Monkey Fist's eyes. "And now…now you will pay for falsely accusing me and exiling me from Australia!"

Ron's fear turned into confusion. "Dude, you were guilty as sin. Wherever the Yono took you, you deserved it."

Confusion passed to the older man. "You ruined me, my family! You took my wife from me, my daughter!"

"What family? You were after my SISTER!" The blood rushed to Ron's face. "You aren't out for revenge; you're after the Mystical Monkey Power!"

The advance stopped. Mad eyes darted back and forth. Monkey Fist covered his ears. He was caught in an aural crossfire: on one side a chorus soared, on the other monkey howled. Only he could hear the voices that buffeted him like a storm.

"Shut up, all of you. Just let me KILL him!"

Blessed silence reigned again. The razor flashed, but found no throat. In the momentary reprieve Ron found a purchase on the bags and scampered up them. Normally fifteen feet would have presented no obstacle to Monkey Fist, but something kept him earth bound. He slashed at the bags again and again. Great gashes opened before him.

"You're coming down, Stoppable." He gloated.

"Not before you go under." The boy shot back.

"Wha…" There was no time to run or jump or finish his question. A wave of kibble rolled over the shocked Englishman

WTOS

Kim needed a break. Facing multiple minions was nothing new. Normally it would be filed under the 'no big' category, but these were not garden variety minions. These had speed and power and far too many could fly. Her side ached from the exertion, limbs felt heavy and her right fist hurt from punching Porcucheetah. At least that one was down.

Sensing their prey was tiring, DNAmy's creations stepped up their attack. They lunged and charged and harassed, looking for an opening. Two things kept Kim alive: her fighting skills and the confusion endemic in any amalgamated animal. Instincts and fighting styles clashed, especially in those whose genes mixed a lot of flight with their fight.

Over to the side, the gopher had his music on continuous loop and his groove on.

Kim's glare brought the Peliconda up short. The Warlraby ran over the creature and the Yakador crashed into him. They came up snarling and snapping at each other. Their comrades stopped and stared. A grateful Kim put her hands on her knees and drew in great gasps of air.

Her adversary was quite put out. "Whot's the matter, dearies? It's not nice to fight each other. Now be good little things and tear her to pieces!"

Just then they all heard Monkey Fist's shout. They could see Ron totter atop the stacks of bags. He slid down, and they could see the wave of kibble spill across the floor. The scent proved irresistible. Huge beasts dove into the feed like puppies.

"That's it, they were 'ungry." An indulgent smile touched the geneticist's lips. "Eat 'earty, cutie pies."

"Really, Amy, if you can't take care of your pets they'll have to be taken away." By her walk and talk Kim clearly had her second wind.

"Oh no, you don't!" A little data card shone in DNAmy's hand. "Remember the big green thing? Meet 'is little friend. 'e'll come out 'ungry, and not for somethin' out of a bag!"

She shoved the card into the slot on the re-sequencer. Kim's grapple gun fired. The line wrapped the mad geneticist up, but not before she hit the start button. The machine stood oddly quiet. Brown eyes and green ones traced the re-sequencer's chord to the wall. Rufus leaned against the wall with one paw while he twirled the plug with the other.

"Way to go, Rufus."

"Hink! Thanks." The naked mole rat froze.

Two men exploded out of the pile of animal feed. The creatures stopped eating and fled from the glowing razor the pair fought over. The younger man tried to reach his enemy with reason.

"Let it go, Monkey Fist, let it go! You're serving a dark and hungry god! It's not your revenge." Suddenly Ron sang out.

**Revenge is a road that will lead you to Hell**

His enemy was unmoved by the warning.**  
**

**All of us travel it, but none do as well **

**As me!**

The response of Monkey Fist was jarring, He gave a sudden twist and Ron fell back. The razor rose once again. Kim rushed toward Monkey Fist, but she knew she could never reach him in time.

"Noooo!"

The scream was not Kim's. Monkey Fist had turned to stone, sinking into the floor with a grinding sound. His companion wailed. The Yakdor flew over and grabbed DNAmy. It flew through a window. The others flew or fled or burrowed away.

Ron stood and stared until Kim knocked him back into the kibble. She held him as tightly as she could, covering his faces with kisses.

"I could get used to this." He smiled.

"The hugs and kisses, yes, but don't do that to me!" she sighed. "Ron, we're on a losing streak with these things. We've never been on one like this before."

"I don't know, the whole thing when you were finding a new look was bad."

"Yes, but I really wish I knew where this is going." Kim sucked in her lip in frustration.

"Why don't we get back to Curious Goods, maybe Mr. Marshak would know."

He did not, but someone somewhere did.

WTOS

Once again the stone figure of Monkey Fist stood in a garden. This time it was in Arkham, in the little park just behind Miskatonic's old observatory. On most clear nights it still found use by the Introductory Astronomy labs, but now and then the department closed it, lest someone gaze into the colors coming out of the old telescope.

The statue had two admirers. One was old, deceptively frail. He smiled his satisfaction before walking over to retrieve the razor from the frozen hand.

"Thank you, Lord Fiske. You may go now." Soundlessly the statue returned to the earth. Once the stone was gone Dr. Lichfield turned to face the second, younger and shapely, figure behind him.

"See, Ms. LaTreau, everything goes according to plan." His smile faded. "Perhaps we should have waited another minute. He would have slashed Team Possible to ribbons with this."

"Trust me, we need Stoppable." The Creole queen replied. "Have you not sensed it? He is a focal point of chaos! How many things that had eluded you for decades fell into place after his arrival?

"You make a valid point, my dear. However I know you have schemes of your own, and you think he will help you beat me to the punch. As someone older and wiser I should warn you: you cannot control or even predict a focal point of chaos."

"I would never betray the Great Old Ones!" she snapped.

"Betray them? Never. Betray us? In a heartbeat." The old eyes glittered. "Do carry on. Have fun at the dance tomorrow night. I'm sure your second choice for a partner will prove satisfactory."

Marie remained after Lichfield left. Ivy on the wall rustled, reshaping itself. The chuckle had only begun when Marie's glare withered the vines. She stalked over and ripped them from the wall. Curses rained down while her feet stomped the dead plant into dust. Satisfied with her work, she looked to the exit.

"When the time comes, you will fare no better." Marie tossed her long hair. "And I am quite happy with my escort for the Fall Formal. Like any good enthusiast I have sampled the vintage before the public introduction. He is quite sophisticated without being fussy and he finishes very, very strong."

Within minutes the garden returned to darkness and silence.

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

Musical Notes: (Get it?)

Music Parodied from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

By Stephen Sondheim

"I'm Alright"

By Kenny Loggins

"In the Air Tonight"

By Phil Collins


	20. Fall Formal: Dinner Before Dancing

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

My thanks to the reviewers: Gomro Morskopp, King in Yellow, Katusmara, LoPe21, CajunBear73, Isamu, whitem, screaming phoenix, Shrike176, airwalker999, MrDrP, bigherb81, reader101w, Heavenly Observer. The joke this time was to have been a pun involving safe and Sondheim, but we know that not everyone who reviewed last time will do so again. This chapter is dedicated to our departed reviewer, screaming phoenix.

Chapter 20: Fall Formal: Dinner Before Dancing

Jack Marshak was grateful, if perhaps a bit disappointed. "At least we know what it is; the Razor of Sweeny Todd! Clearly it's possessed by his insane spirit, and that of his equally mad confederate, Mrs. Lovett."

"From DNAmy's accent, I thought she was English." Ron said.

"In this case it's a legal term, small 'c'." The old man sighed. "I have no idea why anyone would want it, possessed items are basically uncontrollable. Cursed items usually at least offer something to the user before the trap is sprung. We'll just have to research and watch and wait, just like in the old days."

"You mean this used to happen a lot?" Kim asked.

"For a while it seemed to happen every week. Then again, the previous owner more than dabbled in the Black Arts. When we finally straightened it all out his heirs sold me the place. It's been the perfect retirement for me."

Still not sure what to think, Kim nodded. "If anything comes up, just contact Wade. He can always reach us. Ron, could you go start the car? It's getting chilly out tonight."

"Sure thing, KP. Keys?" Once Ron and Rufus were gone Kim could pursue another line of questioning. "Mr. Marshak, about the singing and dancing…"

"Fascinating, isn't it? Life imitating art imitating life."

"It's not that. I understand Monkey Fist and DNAmy, their grasp on sanity never was all that tight, but Ron and Rufus felt it too, while I…"

Realization dawned on Jack. "Ah, you wonder why you weren't affected. Looking back, it was pretty easy to spot the wielder of a cursed object. They seemed to draw the vulnerable to them."

"Are you saying that Ron and Rufus are susceptible to curses?" She was surprised at how worried the thought made her.

"Susceptible? No. But they clearly have some energy about them. Something mystical I'd guess. You're different from them in that respect. As extraordinary as your career has been, you seem to be your basic, average girl."

"Are you saying…I was too normal for the razor?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "I prefer to think of it as grounded. And we should all be so basic and average. Ron certainly worships you; if I'm reading him right."

Much relieved (and maybe still a smidgen put out) Kim turned to leave. "Thanks, Mr. Marshak, keep in touch."

The Sloth's interior was nice and toasty by the time she got in. When you spend so much time fighting, you learn to treasure warmth. Needing to talk, Kim engaged the autopilot. "Ron, I have something to tell you. There's no way it would remain a secret and I want you to hear it from me."

The boy looked deep into her soft green eyes and relaxed. "It's not a boy thing, I know that look. Come on, KP, the Ronman can take it."

The car went just a short distance before Ron's shout could be heard halfway down George Street.

"You did WHAT?"

WTOS

The Sloth took the scenic route back to Miskatonic University. When the top went back it revealed a decidedly mussed up pair in the front seat. Rufus sat in the back, availing himself to the rear TV and head phones.

Kim ran her fingers through Ron's hair, hair that was much more rumpled than usual. "So, you're all right about the baking?"

"That? Sure." Ron answered in his hormone-addled state. "It was just a bad recipe, KP. We'll find something less fussy and have a practice run. I know you can handle a blender, now we just need to fit the other pieces into place."

"So it will be all right?" Relief flooded her face.

"C'mon, you're Kim Possible, you can do anything!"

She kissed him deeply. When they finally came up for air her eyes sparkled. "I so don't want to let you go right now."

Neither did Ron. It took Rufus jumping onto the back of the front seat to break the spell. "Hink! Tomorrow!"

Ron regained a faint measure of self-control. "You're right, Rufus. See you tomorrow, KP."

"Count on it. I'm in need of a serious dose of Ronshine."

The suave look surprised and delighted Kim. "The medicine cabinet is fully stocked. Until tomorrow's treatment."

One more kiss and Ron sighed. They spoke at once.

"I love you."

"Jinx!" Kim laughed. "You owe me a night I'll never forget."

"The Ronster stands ready to deliver. Good night, KP."

She watched him strut to the dorm, not putting the Sloth into drive until he went back inside.

WTOS

Morning got the jump on Ron again. The boy scrambled about getting ready for classes. Breakfast in hand (and paw) Ron and Rufus stumbled out to face the day, all the while anticipating the night to follow.

Two others anticipated the coming dance. From behind a tree Charles Holder and Myna Payne watched Ron hurry down the walkway. Holder sneered. "She wants that, when she could have been mine? And you're sure that other dweeb was his room mate?"

"Yes." Myna replied with more than a touch of pique. "I know what Mac looks like."

"Bet you do. I'm surprised I didn't have to spend the night at the station."

_Why did I ever let myself get mixed up with you? _Myna followed Charles into the dorm. Holder produced a key struck from Myna's casting. The door opened and they slipped into Ron and Mac's suite. It did not take long for Holder to spot his objective. He opened the dorm fridge and pulled out a corsage.

"Ugh, lucky this doesn't reek of Tex-Mex." The handsome lothario grimaced. Carefully he opened the box and removed the flower arrangement. He took a small bottle out of his B. Staff jacket, unscrewed the cap, and wiped the excess liquid from the applicator. A thin layer went onto the corsage ribbon. After it dried he applied another coat. Myna listened nervously for hallway traffic while he did it a third time. Making sure it was dry, he put the flower back into its container and put it back exactly as it had been.

"What is it, a stink bomb?" she asked sharply.

"A stink bomb? I'd never be so juvenile." The DIP assumed a lofty tone. "The rules of pranking call for reciprocity: she humiliated me and discounted my masculinity, now it's my turn to take her down as a woman."

_That's just what you were out to do the first time. _"What is it, then?"

He held the little bottle up to her face before putting it away. "Buddy of mine came up with this. Once it's exposed to the air for ten minutes it seeks out the nearest source of static electricity, which means it ends up on fabric. It permeates the fabric, picks up the charge and converts it into chemical energy. Half an hour later…poof! It dissolves the cloth."

"How much cloth?" The girl's eyebrows arched in suspicion.

"A couple of millimeters deep over a square foot or two. A strap maybe, or a spot on her hip, it depends on where the corsage rests. Nothing too drastic, but funny. It could end up like the scene from 'Bringing Up Baby' you know; the one where Cary Grant had to walk behind Katherine Hepburn?"

_Actually it would be a lot like that…if I had applied only a single coat. Three should take out the whole nine yards. It's going to be 'The Nude Bomb' with maybe a little fallout. And there will be cameras at the biggest fall event at Miskatonic. Tonight the world will know if Kim Possible's real or if she gets it from a bottle. _

Myna could not read minds, but there was something in Charles' eye that she did not like. "How can I trust you when you say that?"

The boy's face hardened. "Trust has nothing to do with this, babe. You were in over your head the moment you got that key cast for me. And what do you think they'd do if you went to the authorities? The Holders are a Harvard institution: they could lose millions if they expelled me. How much does you family donate? Could you even make yourself understood with that hick accent of yours? Bet your guidance counselor coached you on how to hide it during your interview."

Myna's slumped shoulders signaled her defeat. The grin on Holder's face widened. "Good to see you know a winner. Tonight the great Kim Possible goes down, and nobody can stop me."

The door to the next room exploded open. Holder and Payne found themselves gripped by an indescribable cold. Their frozen bodies turned on their own to face the swirling, chaotic lights and the figure emerging from them.

"M-Mac?" Myna gasped.

Charles would have shaken his head if he could have moved more than his mouth. "Impossible! We saw you leave."

Mac's voice was hard, cold and clinical. "Clearly your grasp of the possible is no better than your understanding of the moral."

Even when held in place by unseen forces, Holder did not lack for self-regard. "Let me go, weirdo, you don't want to mess with me. I'm…"

"Were you going to say a Holder or a DIP? You're a DIP, all right, but I see more of a dink, as in rinky." Mac's old walk was back in full force as he made his way to stand in Charles' face.

"Do you have any idea the possible implications your little stunt could have?" the strange boy's urgency made Holder swallow, but his answer still came quickly.

"She's just a girl: a stuck-up little priss-miss who needs to be taught a lesson about her place in the world."

"A lesson." Baleful lights shone in Mac's eyes. "Yes, a lesson is called for."

Myna struggled. "Mac, please."

He walked over to her. His expression softened even as his anger deepened. What hurt Myna the most was that she could tell the difference between his anger at Charles and at her. The former was an almost cosmic rage, while his anger at her was purely personal.

"So beautiful. I knew there had to be something beyond a tour in your plans. Still h…I wanted to give you a chance. Otherwise I would be no better than him, making my judgments based wholly on what can be seen by the naked eye."

"I'm sorry." The girl sobbed. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Strange how we so often get what we claim we don't want." Mac shook his head.

"How did you get back in here? We saw you leave!" Holder demanded.

"There are…other doors. You play pool; do you not know how you can make almost any move if you hit the right angles? Now, about that lesson..." Any hint of malevolence would have been preferable to the objectivity in Mac's voice.

Mac stepped to the side. Charles and Myna glided across the floor and into the next room. They were headed towards his bed. Its strange netting parted, revealing blackness far deeper than any pit. The pair struggled and screamed.

"Do you think I can't prevent anyone from hearing you?" their captor asked harshly.

"No, please! Mac, can we talk?" Myna pleaded.

"If you want to…when this is done." He responded quietly. "That will be your decision."

"You mean you're not going to kill us?" Holder asked.

"I am no savage, indeed, what you would call a punishment I consider a gift."

Hope only fueled Holder's anger. "A gift? What are you going to do to us, you freak?"

"Giving you something you need; something that all need." The darkness grew closer, seeming to reach out to them. Fear utterly paralyzed the two. Now even screaming was denied them.

"A sense of perspective."

WTOS

Even with interminable lectures, classes did not last forever. The moment her last class ended Kim was up and headed for the door. _We'll see if the Tweebs' digital recorder lives up to their hype. _For a girl used to beating landslides, laser fire and self destructs, getting across a crowded Harvard Yard proved no big at all. She raced into her room, grabbed her overnight bag and dress. By the time she was back out the Sloth was waiting for her.

She did not bother to disengage the virtual driver. Instead she slid into the passenger seat. "Miskatonic, Robby." Kim exclaimed. "My BF awaits!"

Jet propulsion got her to Arkham in fifteen minutes. Finding a place to touch down took a little longer. The virtual driver announced their arrival at their destination.

"Pembroke Hall."

"Okay, I've got everything. Find a parking space." Once she stepped out of the Sloth with her things the vehicle set off on its near-Quixotic quest.

A girl waited at the curb. "Kim, right? Welcome to Pembroke Hall! I'm Kathy Mermelstein. Ron and I take Dr. Spengler's Philosophy class. Let me help you with all that."

"Thanks." Kim admired the stone building. "It's so nice of you to let me use your room to get ready, though I don't see why Ron's going through all this trouble. I could have changed in his room."

"Don't you know? Pembroke was a women's college back in the day. Ron wanted to pick you up where so many other Miski Men swept their women off their feet. He's such a romantic!"

"Any ideas as to his other plans?"

"Not a clue. He just wanted me to make sure we had everything packed and ready to go. Now, we have a couple of hours to get you even more gorgeous. Let's go."

WTOS

Ron walked up to Kathy's door two hours later. Even after going out with her for well over a year, he still felt a soaring thrill whenever he picked Kim up. Kathy opened it on the first knock.

"Hello, Ron."

"Hi, Kathy, is Kim ready?"

"Of course she is. The real question is, are you?" Ron's classmates stepped aside and opened the door all the way.

Kim stood in the middle of the room. Her hair was pulled up, showing her face and neck to best advantage. Her shoulders were bare and the dress revealed more topside than Ron had ever seen before outside of his dreams. Monique had dyed the silk Miskatonic brown, and then had treated the material to where it gave off a soft glow. The crimson silk lining at the bust line and along the slit up the right side provided the perfect contrast in color and finish. It fit her perfectly in every way.

She smiled. "What do you think, Ron?"

The boy could only stammer. "KP…you're…it's…KP!

"I've brought you something. Two somethings, actually." He fumbled with the pocket in his tux jacket. "I see you've got the garnet earrings on, but I thought you might like these."

Kim eagerly opened the box. "Ron, they're perfect! Just the thing for the pendant." She let her fingers run along the gold chain that she had extended until the black stone rested at her cleavage in the grand old style. She took off the garnets and replaced them with onyx. A little toss of the head and she smiled.

"Perfect." Ron whispered.

"I believe there's something else?"

"Right here." He put the corsage on her wrist. "Are we ready?"

"Hey, you two, let's get a picture." Kathy held up her camera. The couple smiled and struck an easy pose. "Now get going."

"Thanks, Kathy." Kim and Ron walked out the door with her bag. Kathy closed the door behind them and sighed.

"Why do the good ones always have to go off the reservation?"

WTOS

Middleton's Ivy Leaguers walked down the steps of Pembroke Hall. A magnificent open carriage stood at the curb, complete with a driver in the finest Victorian garb. He doffed his top hat as the couple approached.

"Good evening, mademoiselle. I'll take the baggage, sir, unless, of course, you want me to assist your lady."

"No need, my man. I'll help the lady." Her look brought Ron up short. "That is, if you want me to give you a hand. Not that you need one. You've never needed it, being all that and all."

Kim's glare was mostly for show. She extended her hand. "Thanks, Ron." Once they were both in she shook her head indulgently.

"Ron, it's been a team from the beginning. A ride got us to our first mission. Rides have taken us all over the world. How many times have you saved us? How many times has it been up to Rufus? And don't forget, Wade holds it all together. There's no loner stuff here. The world won't be any better off if macho is replaced by macha."

Ron blushed just a bit. "Thanks, KP." The carriage rolled down the street. "I'm sure Kathy told you about Pembroke. The street we're on is called Meeting. Guess they named it after all the guys and girls crossing it to meet each other. I'm sure a lot of carriage rides took place here over the years. I thought we could repeat the experience."

Kim snuggled next to him. "Great idea, Captain Romance. What's next?"

"The dance starts at seven, but first there's dinner." They continued along Meeting until they turned down onto Brown. Beautiful old buildings lined the way.

"What a view." Kim breathed. "And it's just us! What's Rufus up to?"

"Oh, he has his own plans."

WTOS

Along another street, the custom Nakasumi Roaster wove through traffic at a blazing 238 (scale) kph. The driver wore a tux; simply oozing cool behind his shades. Over the whirl of the electronic motor came the Bond theme from the miniature mp3 player. This naked mole rat was on a mission all his own.

He slowed down and exited the street, rolling down a driveway. A press of a button and the roaster went to off-road mode. The little car ran through the grass and came to a stop in front of a familiar little door.

Rufus put his shades in his jacket pocket and picked up his flower. Never look too cool in front of the father. Daisy's dad indeed gave him a stern, but not disapproving, look. Her mother welcomed him. She carried a small lab camera, ready to take a picture or ten.

They did not have to wait long. Daisy emerged from her room wearing a dress made from an old silk handkerchief and lace doily. The siblings were nowhere to be seen. Rufus felt his whiskers twitch, all cool evaporating for just a moment. That was a winning moment for Daisy and her parents.

He pinned the flower at her shoulder. Next came pictures and a little small talk. It was Daisy who looked up at the old pocket watch over the mantle and squeaked about the time. Rufus nodded.

"Hink! Reservations."

Daisy's mother kissed him on the cheek. Her father's pawshake was firm and friendly. The two were in the car and off. From the little door window her parents watched them drive away. They did not speak until the tiny car was back on the street.

"Bold." The father nodded.

"Sweet." The mother sighed.

"A good catch." They agreed.

WTOS

"Here we are!" Ron announced when the carriage stopped in front of another impressive edifice. "Faunce."

"Faunce Hall?" Kim asked.

"You can call it that, yes, but we just call it Faunce. It's a Miski thing." She let the statement go by with a smile.

A red carpet covered the steps. Photographers snapped shots at well-dressed couples and parties entering the building. Television crews were there as well. While Kim had expected (and Monique no doubt hoped for) some coverage, one did not need espionage experience to know that something was up.

"Ron, this isn't just local coverage, is it. What's the sitch?"

The answer did not come from Ron, but from a movement in the crowd. No longer obscured, the sign stood proudly, lit by its own internal flames.

"Perdition's Pantry?" Kim gasped. "Ron, isn't that that reality show you watch?"

"Yep. That's the program Rufus and I watch when we're baching it." He could not contain his excitement. "It's the first time they've ever done a dinner service on the road! You wouldn't believe how hard it was to score reservations."

"But, Ron, the host, Morton Damsmee…"

"Don't take it personally, everybody gets that from him." Ron laughed. "Sorry, KP: Culinary joke. We're having dinner prepared under the direction of one of the world's greatest chefs."

"Maybe he's a great chef, but Ron, he's so…mean."

"KP, you've been chained over vats of acid, targeted by death rays, a freeze ray, locked in a box that was dumped into shark-infested water with the surface frozen over, turned to STONE, and this guy gets to you because he yells at the contestants a bit?"

"Yells a bit? Barkin yelled a bit. This guy is a monster."

"That's for show, a kitchen tradition. Besides, he's down to the final six contestants. The riffraff are long gone. These are the people he cares about."

"You donkey!" the shout carried to them even before they reached the door to the dining area.

"You need good lungs to run a kitchen." Ron said.

An old dining room had reverted to its original purpose. They were greeted at the door by a stylish young man. "Welcome to Perdition's Pantry. I am Jean Parvenu, the maitre d'."

"Ron Stoppable. And the bon-diggioty lady here is…"

"You don't have to tell me, sir. Kim Possible! We've been expecting the two of you. Please, right this way. Your table is waiting." He led them through the dining area down to the very front. Their booth faced the kitchen, where a red-faced blond man hurried out to meet them. He took Kim's hand into his.

"Welcome to Perdition's Pantry. I'm Morton Damsmee. I know you must get this all the time, but my daughters would kill me if I didn't get your autograph."

"Kim Possible." _He seems nice enough. _She took an offered notepad. "And I'd be happy to."

"Thank you so much." Damsmee beamed.

"Ron Stoppable." The chef looked to the boy. "I've been looking forward to meeting you as well. If you had been a contestant, the whole show would have been a formality."

Ron giggled. "He knows my name. Nobody knows my name."

"The chef at Rialto's did." Kim reminded him.

"In this business we know you." The blustery chef answered. "Palatess like yours are world treasures."

"And our taste buds are here to be tickled." Ron grinned.

"Then I'll leave you to Jean." They took their seats, and the drama began. Any worries that Ron would be distracted by a world class chef at work were unfounded. The two talked and laughed, ignoring the cameras that followed their every move.

"Scallops up!" a female contestant brought a dish to the pass.

"Oh dear, oh dear." Damsmee tutted. "Shelby, these scallops are as blond as your peroxided hair."

The woman shrank under his stare. "But the first batch burned. I was compensating."

"You overcompensated." Damsmee's voice rose with his oh-so-marketable temper. "How hard can this be? That girl saves the world, and you can't put a sear on her BLEEPIN' scallops?"

"Spaghetti up!" Another contestant brought up Ron's appetizer.

"Perfect, Tom." Damsmee said before returning his unwelcome attention to Shelby. "Mr. Stoppable's appetizer has to go out now. I want you to follow it and explain to Ms. Possible that she'll have to wait for hers while Tom fixes your mistake."

As much as Damsmee hated bad cooking it made for great drama. Cameras zoomed in on the young would-be chef who approached the table where Ron was sharing his appetizer with Kim.

"Uh, Ms. Possible." Shelby wrung her hands. "It's such an honor to meet you. I'm sorry that I messed up your order. It'll be out in just a minute."

"It's no big." Kim smiled. "I couldn't do what you're doing."

"But you're Kim Possible. You can do anything."

"Not in a kitchen."

"It'll come, KP." Ron looked up at Shelby. "Use the water test. If the pan's hot enough to make a drop of water jump, it's hot enough for searing."

Shelby nodded absently. "Thanks, I'll do that. Sorry about the wait again, Ms. Possible." With that she hurried back to her station.

"Giving advice to chefs now." Kim teased. "What's next? Are you going to cook dessert?"

"Nah, not when you have pros like these on the job. And Shelby listens. She can see past her own ego. I think she'll win it all, though Rufus still favors that showboat Flambeau. He's too flashy for my tastes."

"And where do your tastes run?" Kim asked coyly.

Ron looked thoughtful. "Well, I love red hair. And green eyes, green eyes are the best. And whiskers…long whiskers…"

Fortunately Kim caught the reference. "Be careful: I have claws and fangs too. So, you're backing Shelby, do you like your girls to be retiring?"

"Don't get me wrong, KP. Confidence is a good thing. I mean, look at you."

"I hope you are." She leaned forward just a little more. "Like what you see?"

"A-Absolutely." He gasped. Just then the waiter arrived with Kim's scallops. The somewhat flummoxed Ron took advantage of the chance to cool off. It lasted only as long as long as it took for Kim to take her first bite.

"Perfect." She purred. "This is great, Ron. You know how to pick your restaurants."

"Thanks, KP."

"Damsmee might not be that bad." Kim looked over at the now smoothly running kitchen.

"It's an act, KP. Just part of the brand."

By the twist of her lip, he could tell Kim was not entirely convinced. "Well, you are a pretty good judge of character."

"I must be, we've been best friends since pre-K."

Damsmee could be heard again at the pass. "Shelby, these scallops are spot-on. Please continue, yes?"

"Yes, Chef!"

WTOS

Dinner went perfectly after the slight delay at the start. Much to Kim's relief when they started dating, Ron's table manners and appetite adapted to whatever venue they chose. His poise and polish could be quite surprising, even sexy.

At last he pushed away his coffee cup. "That was great. Ready for some dancing, KP?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She held out her hand. They had not gone four steps when she froze.

"What is it?" Ron looked at her. "Something set off your Kimsense?"

"Ron, this isn't a comic book. I don't have 'Kimsense'." She took a deep breath. "But something's not right."

The answer came from a nearby table. Another snap from Damsmee elicited a cruel chortle.

"That's what you're looking for, KP." Ron said quietly. "An evil laugh tailored for polite company."

"And I so had wanted to dance the night away." Kim sighed. "Come on, Ron. We've got some foiling to do."

They spotted the familiar brawny form instantly. A tuxedo replaced the usual uniform. He also seemed much more relaxed than usual; giving him confidence rather than the diabolic bravado. The gorgeous blond at the table seem to hang on his every word. His one eye lit up when he saw them.

"Kim Possible. Ron Stoppable. What a pleasant surprise." He waved them over with his good hand. The gloved mechanical one rested on the table, the rocket-launcher fingers pointed away from Team Possible.

"Gemini." Kim breathed when they came over. "Up to no good?"

"Hopefully later." The WWEE chief's quip brought tinkling laughter from his dinner partner. "I want the two of you to meet Carrie D'ception."

"Pleased to meet you." Carrie said in a breathy, heavily accented voice. Kim shook her hand.

"Likewise."

"Hey…" the faintest dig to Ron's ribs prevented him from remarking on their previous meeting with Carrie at the Global Justice bureau in Sarajevo. "Nice to meet you for the very first time. Been seeing Gemini long?"

"Our relationship is purely professional…for now." Carrie's tone made Gemini shudder in a very, very good way.

"Ms. D'ception is a features writer for Villain Nova Magazine." Gemini boasted. "She's doing a piece on my leadership style."

"Nova's magazine does that?" Ron asked.

Kim shook her head. "Not Villanova, 'Villain Nova'; 'Villain' as in bad guy and 'Nova' as in new."

"Or 'Nova' as in spectacular; as in supernova." The blond's eyes went from Gemini to Kim. "I am impressed. You know our publication?"

"On the mailing list." She said evenly. "Hench will sell his address lists to anybody."

Ron shrugged. "You could've won a tank, KP: a tank! You don't even need a license to drive one. Bonnie would have shut up fast if you had pulled up in that bad boy."

Kim grinned before turning back to Gemini. "Dinner and an interview? I can't believe that's all you're up to." The Kimmunicator came out of her purse. "Wade?"

"Hey, Kim. Looking good!" the genius of Team Possible grinned. "And I've got the caption you want ready for when the pictures hit the media. 'Monique Unique', right?"

"As always." Her face turned serious. "Wade, is there anything going on with Gemini?"

"Let me check." Fingers flew over the keyboard. "He's on the GJ watch list, but there aren't any outstanding warrants. Being an evil mastermind isn't a crime."

"Kidnapping is. He took Ron."

"To offer him a position with WWEE. Ron also asked questions: that made it a job interview with contract negotiations."

"What about the time he sent finger missiles at me?"

"You were stealing a device from Henchco. I was merely being zealous in protecting private property from a NGA agent." Gemini said.

"An illegal device." Kim countered.

Gemini had an easy answer. "Not at the time. Henchco stopped production the moment the possible side effects were made known. And those conditions required…really, Ron, I'm amazed you have any taste left at all."

"Bueno Nacho is the fiesta on the international buffet." Ron now shared Kim's testiness.

"Whatever." The one-eyed villain waved them off to Carrie's giggle. "In this case I am protected by the ex post facto provision of the Constitution. I assume you're aware of the Constitution?"

"Aware of, and obedient to it." The red-head said.

"Well, if you two are finished with your inquisition, you may go."

"Come on, Ron. We've wasted enough time here. Good evening, Gemini, Carrie."

"What next?" Ron asked.

Kim laid her head on his shoulder as they walked away. "Why, we go to the dance. Gemini's not wanted and he's under closer surveillance than he realizes. Why put a fly on the wall when you can put a bird on his arm?"

"Bird?" Ron's puzzlement stopped when he heard Carrie work.

"And of course, we must see all of your clever devices you use to enhance great performance."

"Fear not. You and your media crew will have full access to WWEE headquarters. But you know, Carrie, there's so much more to management than trap doors and rocket chairs. You need to be able to intimidate, browbeat, and shout. A key to success is the willing to learn from a master, and no one is better than this than Damsmee. I don't come to Perdition's Pantry every year just for the food."

At that moment Kim and Ron winced at the sound of a plate smashing onto the kitchen floor. Damsmee's voice struck terror into his staff.

"This fish is **RAW!**

"See how they stood in shock before they scattered back to their posts?" Gemini's eye glistened. "He's wonderful!"

WTOS

After his tirade Damsmee left a sous chef in charge and stormed out, much to the delight of the cameras. Once out of sight he hurried to a second, smaller kitchen where his second sous looked up from her prep work. He nodded his satisfaction and went to work.

The master chef moved with the ease of a million successful efforts. In no time he was using a torch to caramelize the top of the crème brulee. He plated the dessert and waved the waiter over.

"How has it gone so far?" Damsmee asked.

"Perfectly, Chef." The young man replied before taking the dish out.

Waiting is the hardest part of any job. When the proper time elapsed Damsmee entered the elegant dining room once reserved for Miskatonic's presidents. He went over to the one table.

"I trust everything is satisfactory, yes?"

The naked mole rat looked up with glittering eyes and puffed cheeks. He nodded enthusiastically. The field mouse with him concurred.

"Excellent! I'll leave you to your dessert. If you need anything else, please tell the staff. And enjoy the Formal."

Damsmee never cooked for guests on the show, not even when they were world-famous chefs, celebrities or gourmands. The contestants had to be able to cook for such people if the winner wanted to work for his organization. This was different, too important to even trust to his sous. She could prep, but he had assembled and prepared each dish.

After all, if a rodent returns a plate, you're finished.


	21. Tonight's Entertainment

My thanks to the reviewers:Gomro Morskopp, Isamu, Katsumara, whitem, CajunBear73, Reader101w, Shrike176, TheRedKommie, MrDrP, King in Yellow, Muzzlehatch and the other readers. If damming could have helped, this chapter would have gotten out long ago.

Chapter 21: Fall Formal: Tonight's Entertainment

WTOS

A quick walk up the stairs brought Kim and Ron to the next floor. Midway down the hall stood a decorated archway bathed with lighting and camera flashes. The paparazzi were there for more than just Team Possible. Miskatonic's student body boasted scions of prominent families the world over. One such couple was posing for photographs when the young man saw them approach.

"Ron!" the boy smiled and hurried over with his date. "I wondered when you would show up.

"And it is an honor to meet you, Kim Possible. I have heard so much about you; it can be difficult to get Ron to think about anything else at times. I am Amal bin Ras al Ghul, Ron's study buddy."

"A pleasure. And thanks for helping keep Ron up to his potential. I've heard a lot about you, also."

Amal introduced the girl beside him, whose red dress achieved glamour without sacrificing modesty. The exotic beauty and jaw-dropping jewelry certainly did not hurt. "This is A'lia bint Fasil: Princess of Q'ter. By desert standards, she's the girl next door! Who knew I would have to travel so far to meet her?"

"Life's strange like that." Ron nodded. After they shook hands he had a question for Amal. "Speaking of strange, have you seen Mac?"

"Not yet. Steve went inside a little while ago, with more escorts than a flagship."

"Come on, KP, let's run the gauntlet." First they posed for the Formal's photographer, then the paparazzi took over, snapping pictures and firing off questions. Kim found it all just a bit unsettling, but the crowd was well controlled, their price for access. Still, it was a repeat of Italy in regards to one issue.

"Well, of course I kissed him like I meant it, he is my boyfriend." She answered one, wrapping Ron's arm up in hers and giving a coy smile.

"So, you didn't just fall for Miskatonic's new football hero?"

"We've been best friends since pre-K, and dated since the Junior Prom." Kim replied. "And we've never looked back."

"But you've had so many boyfriends the past two years." Another tabloid reporter stated. "There was Lon Notable, Don Robbable, Juan Anzable…"

"They never get my name right." Ron shook his head. "And you'd think I would've have shown up in at least one picture."

The answer was another barrage of flashes. "Enough questions, Ron, time to dance!"

The two couples entered Miskatonic's Fall Formal. An old room had once again assumed ball room status. Before they made it to the dance floor A'lia moved up to Kim.

"You did a very good job with those reporters."

"Thanks."

"I wish I had done so well, but I have little experience speaking in public. Father has insisted I take some rhetoric courses here, as I may someday assume the throne."

"That's not a public address, that's surviving a feeding frenzy. I think I'd rather be handcuffed over some bubbling vat."

"Come on, KP, they weren't that bad." Ron gave her a comforting rub on the arm.

She shrugged. "Maybe not, but when will the world know that we're a pair?"

"Be glad there are no dynastic issues involved." Amal joined in, with A'lia nodding in agreement.

Just then lights from the stage caught their attention. The main act was ready. By the look on the announcer's face, the Fall Formal Entertainment Committee had scored a coup again this year.

"Ladies and gentlemen." She began. "You've read about them on the boards, followed their blog, caught their webcasts, and downloaded, legally I'm sure, some of their tracks. Here they are, in English, on the first stop of the 'For the World Tour': Erich and the Zann!"

The crowd roared its approval. Kim and Ron looked around; feeling just a shade provincial. Middleton had largely ignored the European pop scene. Certainly they did not recognize the willowy young man with pale skin, long hair and haunted eyes who stepped up to the microphone.

"Looks like he should be playing the viola." Kim whispered.

As if they had heard the band broke into a brooding tone with an almost hypnotic beat while Erich crooned of what the night winds whisper to those to whom sleep will not come. Kim could feel the goosebumps rising when Ron touched her arm.

"C'mon, KP. They've got a beat, let's dance to it."

Among the many ways Kim Possible was you basic, average girl was her love of music and dancing. All too often boys who shared such interests either (a) willing to share their gifts with any attractive girl (b) insufferable peacocks or (c) don't really like girls in, you know, that way. Happily, Ron fit into none of the above. She was aware of his lack of shame for many years, but it took the Junior Prom to discover he had a real sense of rhythm.

They danced to the fast songs. They danced to the slow songs. Erich drew inspiration from every musical source imaginable, and if they had asked some of the other dancers, rumors hinted at other, less conventional muses as well. Kim and Ron moved to the weird, wonderful sounds.

The crowd looked ready to collapse when the band finished its first set. People looked about in wonder, coming up with a theory explaining the feeling. They headed for the refreshments.

"Good idea." Ron said, "Let's get some punch."

They made their way over along with Amal and A'lia. Their eyes went wide at the sight they came upon. Ron swallowed.

"Mac, are you wearing…a dress?"

"Ron, as many times as we've faced down Killigan, you should recognize a kilt." Kim chided. _Though a full-length ball gown would've come as no surprise._

Ron's gawky suitemate was indeed in Scottish attire. With the formal tie and jacket it was actually a good look for him. "This is the authentic Makarash tartan, though the original name was MacCarish. I can rightfully wear it. And I feel so free! I may make all of my lower wear kilts. Why would anyone develop—pants legs—in the first place?"

"I'm a pants man myself, but the breeze can be refreshing." Ron said. Amal, familiar with another pantsless clothing style, nodded.

"Ron, Amal, A'lia. I had hoped to see you here. Ah, Kim Possible, it is such an honor."

Kim had heard this often, but never in such a way. Yes, many said it with sincere admiration, but Mac sounded as though he were meeting a mythical figure.

"Uh, thanks. Ron's told me all about you."

The strangest expression flitted across Mac's face. "I would shake your hand but as you can see mine are full."

That was hardly surprising for someone walking away from the refreshment tables. What shocked his friends was that he held two cups. He could not help but smile. "Let me introduce you to my date."

Three jaws dropped when a girl emerged from the crowd and took the cup from Mac's hand before wrapping an arm around his. Ron and Amal were stunned at how someone like Mac could be with the blond beside him. Kim's shock came not from the mismatch, but from knowing the woman in question.

"Myna?"

"Hello, Kim." The fellow Crimson replied, without a hint of rancor or disdain. "Mac said we'd meet tonight. And you must be Ron."

"Pleased to meet you." Ron shook her hand and looked at Kim. "She seems a lot ni…"

"Ron!" Kim whispered.

"It's all right." Myna nodded. "Kim, while Ron and Amal stand in line, could we talk? Mac, why don't you stay with your friends? A'lia, you can come with us if you'd like."

The suggestions met with everyone's approval, so they went their ways. After a short walk Myna stopped. "Kim we haven't gotten along very well, especially for squad mates."

"Oh, I don't know, back in Middleton Bonnie and I…"

The blond arched an eyebrow. "That was a different kind of rivalry. And you don't have to try to downplay things. Sometimes people just rub each other the wrong way. For my part, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." Kim said with relief. "I don't think I tried hard enough to smooth things over."

"It's okay." Myna answered. "In the grand scheme of things, a rivalry is just so, so…pointless."

The look on the blonde's face gave both Kim and A'lia pause. After a moment Myna laughed. "I imagine that's the sort of look Mac gets from Ron and Amal. I had a long talk with Mac today. It really helped me get grounded. Those are beautiful dresses, by the way."

"Thanks." A'lia smiled. "I like yours also."

"This? It's off the rack. I was lucky to find something that fit so well. I didn't know that I was going until this afternoon, and Mac was kind enough to offer to buy me a dress."

"Well, you both have good tastes." Kim took the chance to compliment Myna.

"That's very kind of you." The rival-no-longer gave her a long look. "We may never be the best of friends, but I would like to start over."

"So would I." Kim beamed.

Relief flooded Myna's face. "I'm glad you see things that way. When you look at it from the proper perspective, the price of enmity is just too high."

WTOS

"Ah, Dr. Crane, it is so nice of you to volunteer your time like this, especially when you're on vacation."

"It's my pleasure, Dr. Gilchrist." The distinguished psychiatrist nodded. "After dealing with so much latte-fueled ennui, it's good to get your hands on some good, old-fashioned mental illness."

"What did you think about the patient?"

"Mr. Holder? I think you're right on the mark, although it may be advisable to add a prescription of anti-anxiety medication along with the antidepressant."

"I was wondering about that, it seemed best to not taint your thoughts before you met with the patient."

"That's the problem with being a psychiatrist, you're always thinking too much." Dr. Crane joked. "What we have here is a model existential crisis. For someone like our young man it's a bit hard to find out that you aren't the center of the universe."

Dr. Gilchrist nodded. "He did take that realization badly. Wrapping himself up in a sheet, wondering out into traffic, quoting Ecclesiastes. At least he didn't try to compensate with delusions he was someone else: we have three Theodore Roosevelts already! We are all out of Napoleons, though.

"It's been a bad semester. Just last week we put four Miskatonic girls in Arkham."

"Arkham!" Well seasoned as he was, Dr, Crane could not keep the shock out of his voice.

"It was only temporary, until we could find suitable accommodations at other institutions." The doctor shook his head. "But it was clearly necessary. Each girl went to a different store looking to buy a gun. All of them said the same thing: the other three were out to kill her!"

"Miskatonic has always been a bit of a pressure cooker, but there has to be more to this than I've heard so far."

"Oh, indeed. When we brought them in, separately of course, they told us the reason. It was rivalry over a man."

"A man?" The Seattle radio personality gave him colleague a doubtful glance.

"A man they made themselves, out of parts harvested from the recently deceased! It was an amazing group delusion; each telling the exact same story. The only thing they didn't agree on was the identity of the boy who was supposed to provide the heart for their dream man."

"You actually followed up on their story?" Dr. Crane was incredulous.

"They all come from very wealthy and prominent families; of course we had to look into it. A fifth young woman was implicated in the story, a Roberta West."

"Name sounds familiar." Dr. Crane shook his head. "But I can't quite place it."

"Anyway, she denied any knowledge of such a crazy scheme. Naturally there was no need to ask her about the boy. So we left her and her companion alone. Magnificent young man. My guess is that the stresses of college life combined with jealousy of their friend's swain to evolve into a group psychosis."

"An interesting theory…or plot device." They shared a laugh. "Dr Gilchrist, it seems that the Ivy League has lost none of its charm."

WTOS

It took a few minutes for the boys to go through the line. During that time Kim, Myna and A'lia talked. Kim found that she had more in common with Myna than she would have thought possible. Soon they were laughing easily together. As for A'lia, she proved a sharp observer who could put her observations into pithy statements. The chance for friendships beyond the Honeys greatly appealed to Kim.

"Miss us?" Ron asked as he gave Kim her drink.

"A little." She replied with a sly smile.

"I bet they had a most pleasant conversation." Amal said. "The men around us kept asking Ron about the coming game."

"It will be a good one." Ron asserted with a bit of defiance.

"You can be certain they had a more interesting conversation." Mac nodded at the women. "After all, consider their most likely topic. Males tend to discuss sports or politics while the female of the species are obsessed with…"

"A little more analysis and this female might develop other interests." Myna teased.

It seemed like Mac gave himself a sharp look. He took a deep breath before answering. "Of course, enough shop talk for the evening. If you spend your life in analysis, it will pass you bay."

"Perhaps run you over," A'lia quipped. Everyone laughed.

"Okay everybody, finish up your drinks." Kim nodded toward the stage. "The band's setting back up."

WTOS

Elsewhere in the building another band readied for its second set. Between floors a crawl space glowed with polished paneling. White Christmas lights twinkled against black velvet overhead. It would all return to its storage in the morning; safe from prying human eyes. Miskatonic's other Fall Formal was underway.

Mice, rats, shrews, gerbils, hamsters and a smattering of more exotic rodents nibbled on cheeses and nuts. They chattered and squeaked about events around the University. Size considerations precluded some, but not all, non-rodents, who threw dances of their own. But a few could not resist the chance to party in Faunce. A pair of ferrets was about and in one corner a Russian Sable cut an exotic figure.

She joined in the laughter as Rufus completed his tale of an around-the-world chase involving a certain jet-setting feline. The sharp dressed naked mole rat basked in the attention.

Heads turned when a rat raced up to the group. Contact lens connected by gold wire made or an impressive set of spectacles. Behind the blue tinted plastic, he locked beady eyes with Rufus.

"Squeak! Electrical?"

"Hink! Uh-huh, uh-huh."

The rat immediately turned and raced off. Rufus and Daisy followed him up a series of shafts and pipes to reach the roof. There a group of animals clustered around something that could only be called a contraption. One side was removed, its internal working defying the analytical powers of rats reared in the digital age. While the Observatory's owl had immediately divined the machine's astronomical nature, she was also mystified by the hardware. Beside her a beaver and otter bore the bemused look of experts summoned to look at something utterly beyond their ken. They all stood aside for the new arrivals.

"Squeak! Whose?" Daisy asked.

"Erich and the Zann." The rat with spectacles answered.

"Hink! Their IT?" Rufus looked around.

The owl furrowed her feathered brow. "Lizard."

Everyone shook their heads, and not out of any prejudice against the cold-blooded. Who in their right mind would put a reptile in charge of outdoor equipment on a fall night in New England?

That mystery paled when set beside the machine's interior. Glass tubes, convoluted wiring, gears and cogs, all confounded them. Rufus had a bad moment himself, glancing worriedly at Daisy. She gave him an encouraging nod. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked again and saw something that put his mind at ease. He could not read German, but he could make out the name of Demenz easily enough on a glass plate on the machine's wall. Maybe the rats knew the latest super-science, but mad science was his bailiwick. He barked out orders.

WTOS

Downstairs on the human dance floor couples swayed in each other's arms. In one corner a blond boy looked into the glowing green eyes of the most beautiful girl to ever have mastered sixteen kinds of kung-fu, saved a space mission, baby sat a world-saving ninja toddler, well, you know.

"Having a good time, KP?"

"The best." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad I ditched the overseas idea. Even an hour or so is too far away. I miss seeing, touching…" she inhaled, "even smelling you. Most of the time on that last one. Great cologne, by the way. New?"

"Yeah, Mac gave it to me. I wouldn't be surprised if he made it himself." He looked into her eyes. "And I know how you feel. It's the worst part of Camp Wannaweep all over again. You know, we don't have to live on campus next year. There are lots of places between Cambridge and Arkham and the transit system is great…"

She cocked an eyebrow "Unless you've developed some extreme anti-gravity gear, I know you didn't just suggest that we move in together."

"Separate rooms in a suite wouldn't be moving in together. Okay, maybe that's too close, but we could rent apartments in the same complex." His voice dropped a bit. "I'm not trying to pressure you, KP."

"You're not. But who would've thought that you would be doing the thinking and planning. And speaking of plans…"

"Oh no, KP no spoilers."

"Not a spoiler, just a heads up."

"This isn't a mission. There is no need-to-know here." Ron smiled. "Hey, I sounded just like Special Agent Smith, or was it Special Agent Smith?"

"Just a hint?" Her bottom lip came out. "Pweeze?"

"No, not the puppy dog pout." Ron moaned.

"Just a widdle one? You know how much I love a mystery."

"You've got one." Ron protested feebly.

"There's no mystery without clues." The lip quivered now.

Sweat beaded on Ron's forehead. The PDP was reaching its point of irresistible force. If he did not act now, all was lost. He acted.

Kim's eyes bulged when his lips met hers. He pulled her to him with all the urgency and passion he could (publicly) muster. Her eyes closed. Her knees buckled. When she opened her eyes she could only sigh.

"Wow! Got any more of those?"

"Plenty Just wait until we…"

Kim gave him a light, playful kick to the shin. "Remember, secrets."

Onstage Erich watched them through heavy-lidded eyes. When Kim's legs gave way he half wondered if she had understood the Old German couplet in the last stanza. No, her eyes shown with love not fear. Beating down his own apprehension he nodded to the band.

Kim and Ron stepped back from each other on the first beat. They clasped hands at face level. On the next beat Ron let go of her left hand and they turned outward. On the next beat they joined hands again, then they turned inward on the following. _Everyone's on the same page, what gives? Well, it is simple, and he's probably planted some dancers in the crowd for us to follow. I've got all kinds of training to pick up a routine. And Ron's ninjitsu would help him here. Just go with it._

Their bodies responded to the sinuous notes from the band and the wordless keening of the singer. Sometimes they danced hand in hand, at other times apart. The music shifted tempo. Kim and Ron turned to face the nearest couple. Amal and A'lia joined them in a series of movements that seemed to come as naturally as breathing. Then came a new permutation in the piece. Now Mac and Myna were a part of the circle that sometimes moved on its own and at others twirled with other circles.

This was Erich and the Zann's signature piece, the key to their rise on the European dance club scene. To its hordes of admirers it was the new Bacchanal. The few detractors labeled it a morris dance. (Erich's favorite review was Dieter's: to be likened to the great Fish Dance!) No one could really describe it, in part because no footage of it existed. The band allowed no stationary cameras, and all efforts to film it with hand held units failed when the need to dance overwhelmed their operators.

The young German smiled to himself. For Generations the music had burdened his ancestors with madness and worse. Great-grandfather had worked it into experimental classical music, losing everything when the National Socialists shut down all modern art forms. Grandfather and father had turned to jazz, but stir clung to the fringe elements. He was the one to realize the potential of rock and roll. Unlike his ancestors, much of his haggard look was for show.

Still, even with the crowd's psychic energy things could go disastrously wrong. He watched the dance's evolutions, waiting for just the right moment to push the button on the floor that would draw the pent-up power from the room and up to the device on the roof. That work of another genius would send the music to the place astronomers called the Maelstrom, where the comets were born. To those that lay within that chaotic place, the clamorous chords were a lullaby.

WTOS

On the roof the animals raced about in a maelstrom of their own. They brought box after box of electrical equipment and office supplies to the opening of the weird machine. Rufus shook his head in frustration after examining the last shipment. He had asked for rubber bands and paper clips for a reason.

A shadow landed in front of him. The Literature department's raven clutched a bag of the former and a box of the latter. "Even more?" it cawed.

"Hink! We're good." Rufus dove into the box and bag and emerged with the final pieces to the puzzle. Arms laden, he stepped back into the machine. Inside Daisy and the bespectacled rat, Rupert, waited expectantly. Under his direction they had affected repairs using parts scavenged from pens, a transistor radio, flash bulbs, (a real find) and other odds and ends. They replaced parts weakened by age, worn by wear and finally destroyed by their first transatlantic flight. Proper, lasting repairs would be the work of the lizard and the band's roadies; this was strictly a temporary fix.

Once they had twisted the last paper clip into shape and attached the rubber bands they scrambled out. The others waited for them, their tension growing by the moment. Something they had never felt before stirred the night air: something impossibly old, unspeakably alien. All hope rested with restoring the device before its owner sought to use it.

WTOS

The music had changed yet again. Circles broke into couples once more. No choreography guided them now, just the desire, the need, to dance. Kim and Ron moved around each other in a manner reflecting all the attraction and fascination of love. Monique had definitely designed for the occasion; Kim's dress moved with her as confidently as the battle suit, without the potential of shorting out. She gave no thought to the low cut, the tight fit. Instead of making her feel self-conscious, it made her gloriously aware of her femininity. In her first outing Monique had achieved the designer's Holy Grail.

Something else helped Kim reach her heady state. Across from her danced a young man who had somehow grown more handsome since he had picked her up just a few hours before. The chocolate brown eyes drew her in; windows to a soul that called to hers. It was what was inside that had first drawn her to him, now she had to admit the outside was every bit as compelling. She moved about him in wild abandon, hoping he caught the hint. From the look in his eyes he did.

Her Ron was indeed showing his potential. He might sound unenthused with class assignments when they spoke on the phone, but he had yet to sound lost. Nor had Kim caught the unmistakable tone of Ron blowing something off. She had even found a couple of blogs from Miskatonic professors who taught him. Neither mentioned any names but she knew a Ronnism when she saw one, though having them used as evidence of insight was a delightful change of pace.

"Isn't he perfect?" she had asked her when Eric had deftly avoided the Tweb's rockets. Indeed Eric had been perfect, like any made to order item should have been. He had definitely left her heart perfectly broken.

Ron was not perfect, about as far as one could be in some respects. _Perfection doesn't grow. It doesn't change. How happy would I have been with Eric if he had been real? I'm not the same person I was junior year. Neither is Ron. I think we're both better. Forget perfection. Here's to growth. Here's to change. Here's to what comes next._

Beautiful girls were all around them but Kim felt no jealousy or unease. Ron's eyes were on her and her alone. Not even a familiar blond beauty dancing with serpentine (_so_ _the right word for her_) grace could spoil her mood. Marie LaTreau danced with her impossibly handsome date. The bayou siren looked over at Kim and Ron. Her expression made Kim's day: utter consternation.

Erich looked over the dance floor. Every emotion was in play, fueling the music. Someone out there even sensed they were under the music's influence, and his or her resistance only increased his power. No one would resist if they knew what was at stake. Everything was at its peak: it was time. He stopped prowling the stage. His keening rose, hitting incredible octaves. A flip exposed the button on the floor. The band went into its final notes. On the crescendo Erich brought his foot down.

WTOS

The last screws went back into place and the contraption was fully restored. A group of animals exhaled in relief. They eyed their handiwork, and saw their mistake.

A half yard away lay the machine's cord. Rupert had both disconnected the plug and turned off the trip switch from the converter strip that enabled the machine to safely draw power from electrical systems of another time and place. Even now the man below might be trying to activate it. Prudence might yet snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Rufus responded with all the speed of a professional. Scooping up the plug, he brought it overhead and slammed it down into the socket. Step one down, but with the trip switch thrown it would be for naught. Everyone could feel the power coming up. The naked mole rat turned, even though he knew there was no way he could beat the speed of lightning.

Someone sailed past him. Daisy punched the switch, aided by the momentum provided by the swat of the beaver's broad tail. Every hair and feather stood on end when the machine sparkled and glowed before emitting a narrow beam of invisible (to humans) light into the night sky.

People leaving Faunce looked up, puzzled by the faint sounds of squeaks; caws and hoots that they could have sworn were coming from the roof.


	22. Could It Be?

Kim Possible and related characters are the property of Walt Disney.

My thanks to the reviewers: Katsumara, LoPe21, CajunBear73, whitem, Pensive Rumination Observer, MrDrP, Isamu, reader101w, bigherb81, Srike176, KinginYellow, elyk36, RonHeartbreaker, Taechunsa, and all the other readers. Sorry I've taken so long here.

Chapter 22: Fall Formal: Could It Be?

Erich let out a great shuddering breath. The band would probably party into the wee hours, but he would retire to his room. In the aftermath of a performance, the haggard look was not for show. Saving the world could take a lot out of you.

For a moment silence reigned on the dance floor. Once the crowd caught its breath, they let out a sustained cheer. Erich and the Zann gave no encores, yet no one complained. After the Great Dance everyone needed a chance to recover.

Ron looked at his watch. "Let's hear it for Teutonic punctuality. Guys, we've got to go."

Goodbyes were exchanged. Mac seemed like an officer from an old movie sending the hero on some vital mission. A'lia and Myna hugged Kim. Myna's may have been a bit stiff, but Kim understood the effort and appreciated it all the more. When she was done Ron took her hand.

"Come on, KP. Our rides await."

Ron managed to remain calm as they went out with the crowd. Kim could not help but feel his excitement. _Got to admit, I'm so eager to see what he has set up. Rides?_

They only stopped once. A certain Creole woman stood in front of them. At her side was a man almost as alluring as the one beside her. Almost.

"Hi, Marie, Kim you remember Marie." Ron smiled.

"She's the kind you don't forget." Kim said.

"Neither are you." Marie put just a shade more ice into her tone than Kim. "May I introduce my escort, Mitch."

The handsome man kissed Kim's hand. "A pleasure."

"Thanks." From the corner of her eye Kim could see Ron watching Marie's date.

"How's Roberta?" Ron asked Mitch.

The man shrugged philosophically. "We've gone our separate ways. She may well have outgrown me."

Ron nodded. "You guys have fun. We've got to get running."

Once Kim and Ron had left Mitch turned back to Marie. "He barely would slow down. I believe he has outgrown you as well…if there was ever anything there."

The beauty at his side seemed unfazed. "I don't need his heart, any more than you did. The boy is a chaos magnet, come Saturday the world will see what he can attract."

WTOS

The carriage waited on the curb again. It had a new driver. Kim recognized the man from weeks before; he had been at the Red Line station when she had said goodbye to Ron. Ron, of course, knew the proprietor of the Arkham Arms jewelry store. The man lifted his hat and bowed with great flourish.

"An honor to finally meet you, Ms. Possible. I am Askook Weatherford, Proprietor of the Arkham Arms Jewelry Shoppe and Sachem of the Arkham Band of the Miskatonic Nation."

"Kim Possible." She shook his hand, and then brought her hand up to her earrings. "So you sold Ron these? I have to thank you."

"We craft those ourselves. It always pleases us when someone selects them."

"Uh, dude." Ron interrupted with puzzlement in his voice. "I thought we'd be picked up by a cab. That would be faster. We need to get to the airport."

"Airport?" Kim asked excitedly.

Askook took a deep breath. "About that. There's been a last minute change in plans. Mr. Smarty apparently decided that he needed his Caribbean island tonight. I have your full refund with me, sir."

"Caribbean island?" Kim melted.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like a moonlit stroll on an empty beach." Ron sighed.

"Like it, I'd love it! Ron Stoppable, you have officially gained your commission as Captain Romance."

The boy smiled wistfully. "Thanks, KP, but I've been a captain for a minute and my ship's already run aground."

The Sachem cleared his throat. "If I may be so bold, sir, this could be for the best. You both have morning classes, I presume, and Mr. Stoppable has an afternoon flight to Tennessee. You would have precious little time to do anything beyond take a short walk."

"I take it you have another idea?" Kim asked.

"Everything is prepared," he motioned to the carriage. "If you please."

They climbed aboard again and were off. The carriage made its way downtown and up towards the elegant old houses on the Hill. Kim snuggled up to Ron, any disappointment over losing the beach forgotten. "This is wonderful, Ron."

"Better than a flight to the Caribbean?" he asked a bit doubtfully.

"Way better." She answered. "We go to the Caribbean all the time."

"Yeah, to stop Drakken, that's not romantic."

"Ron, a moonlit carriage ride is as romantic as anything I could imagine." She did not have to ask for a kiss, he could read it in her eyes.

The carriage went through the ornate gates of an imposing mansion. A small staff waited at the door.

"Welcome to Gilman House." Askook said. "This stands on ground sacred to our people. We purchased it back a few years ago with proceeds from the reservation casino. Both would have been destroyed by the Little Diablos if you had not deactivated them when you did. You've saved the world a dozen times over, with never a thought of reward. The Miskatonic nation would like to express its appreciation by giving you its use for the night. It's undergone extensive renovation, and will house the Band's most honored guests. You will be the first. The staff has everything ready and can stay…or leave…as you will."

"I'm sure everything's fine." Kim smiled and looked at the waiting staff. "Why don't you guys go home?"

"Truly gracious." The Sachem signaled and the staff left for their cars. "There is a phone in the master bedroom. Should you need anything press the blue button and someone will answer. Have a most pleasant evening."

Askook opened the door for them. Ron looked to Kim. "Shall we?"

The building was every bit as magnificent on the inside. Everything was grand without being overbearing or ostentatious. A note awaited them on the table in the foyer.

**Dear Sir and Madam:**

**Your things have been taken upstairs and a light repast has been laid out on the dining room table should you desire anything. As Askook has instructed; should you require anything, please contact us.**

**We are honored to serve you.**

**The Gilman House Staff**

"After all that dancing I could go for something. How about you, KP?"

"Lead the way, but let's not take too long." She ran delicate fingers along his arm. Only insistent hunger kept Ron from ditching the trip altogether. Once they reached the trays of fresh fruits and cheeses Kim realized that she needed a little something.

They sat at a small table, talking and laughing as they had for years at booths and tables, at home, Bueno Nacho, and at spots all over the world. But never before had the venue been this truly private, and never had they been so by themselves.

"Hold still, KP." Ron reached over with a napkin. Kim felt a jolt when he touched it to the corner of her mouth.

"Shouldn't we check out the upstairs?" she asked.

This time it was Ron who started. "Upstairs?"

"Sure. All our stuff's up there. I'd like to change and freshen up. Put on something more…"

"Comforting?" he swallowed.

"Sure," She laughed. "Come on, I really want to see the rest of this place."

The stairway reminded Kim of an old black and white movie she had seen years ago. She held onto Ron's arm and laid her head on his shoulder. "You know, I'm glad we're here right now instead of on a jet."

"Really?"

"Don't get me wrong, I like beaches. But Askook is right; we would've been so rushed. And I love this place. Glad to see I'm not the only one who can call in a favor."

"But this is one of yours KP. They're thanking you for saving this place."

"Thanking us," She corrected him. "And you were the one who got this rolling. Nice job, Captain."

WTOS

While Kim and Ron went inside Askook stood in the drive. Finally he spoke in a quiet voice. "One, two, three…there are five of you."

"How did you know?" a voice challenged from behind him.

"Haven't you heard? You can't sneak up on an Indian," he turned and grinned. "Any more than you can surprise a ninja."

The five black garbed figures stood with hands on weapons. As per Askook's observation, four of them watched the hedges from which men emerged with weapons of their own. The ninjas' leader narrowed his eyes. "When will your mistress arrive?"

"She is not our mistress, and she won't be here. She still has the original itinerary. Right now she should be in the Caribbean; out of our way."

WTOS

Yidhra, Goddess of the Outer Dark, walked thought the lush tropical foliage on bare feet. Moonlight glowed on her skin, starlight sparkled in her hair. Tonight there would be no subterfuge: her beauty was truly and utterly her own. She kept it just controlled enough so that only the human male would be moved. As for the little witch that would stand between her and Ron, Yidhra's roots reached far past any blather about sisterhood. Kim Possible would be given one chance to step aside.

Splashing sounds came from the lagoon ahead. Yidhra slipped into the water without a moment's hesitation. It was not like she had any clothing to doff. No woman could have dreamed of swimming with her confidence or grace. She could see masculine legs ahead of her. They stood in a dynamic posture. The girl was not around.

_Her loss._

She burst through the water's surface, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The water flowed away and her vision cleared. This was not her blond youth. He was middle aged with a shaved pate. The man held a phone to his ear. He had been giving orders.

"That's right, Ted, I want them in the stores by Wednesday and at that price point. How? Volume and volume! Don't make me come visit you."

Martin Smarty dropped the phone when a woman, beautiful beyond description, came up from the waters to embrace him. Somehow he managed to keep a measure of self-control. Not daring anything else, he resorted to his native language: business.

"Hello. I was told if I came here tonight, there would be an offer that I would never forget. That must be you. Are you a merger or an acquisition?"

Throughout time men have overestimated the power of the gods. To personify something entails a degree of surrender unimaginable to most mortals. Yidhra had come here in her full power, ready to claim a man and, if need be, destroy a woman. In this state she was as much in thrall of her needs as the most abject addict. A mortal woman would have given over to rage or embarrassment. But to drive a man beyond all control entailed giving up considerable control oneself.

The well-built man was fit and in the prime of life. While Yidhra had never been with a merchant prince for an extended relationship, he had the virility that made his kind so attractive when it came to the occasional dalliance. Goddess that she was, she was still (for now) a woman. She had needs.

"Merger." She replied huskily.

WTOS

Askook continued. "This land is sacred. It is where our wise ones came to seek guidance in dream and vision. Now after three centuries they will be able to do so again."

"Then what did she have to do with this?" Another ninja asked.

"The property finally came into the hands of someone willing to sell it back to us, but over time other spirits had taken root here: dark spirits. It has taken us years to reclaim it for our needs and restore it to the true spirits of the land. One last claim remains."

"Yidhra," the head ninja nodded. "She who has marked the Chosen One as her own. It would have helped us if you had shared this information with us, instead of leaving us in the dark."

"You could have asked," Askook shrugged. "And if we had come to you, would you not have suspected a trap? Sometimes it is best if you let the student teach himself. Would not your Sensei agree?"

A pair of ninja started a small conversation. Their leader motioned them to silence before returning his attention to Askook. "Perhaps. Still, there are many rumors going back for centuries regarding the loyalties of your people."

"And as with many such legends, it is difficult to discern truth from falsehood. But I would ask you, had my people served the Great Old Ones, would Solomon Kane have spared them?"

"No."

"Besides, by not telling you, you engaged in research that you otherwise would not have. Your knowledge is the better for that. I would not be surprised if your people turned up things about the goddess that even we don't know. And the charm we sold Mr. Stoppable, we never sell those to outsiders. Would servants of the Great Old Ones give their enemies the power of the Elder Sign?"

The head ninja conceded. "So you played each side off against the other, in order to gain something from one side and strengthen a possible ally who may aid you if the first party seeks vengeance. You are indeed as subtle as your namesake. Take care; your cleverness may one day lead someone to bruise your head."

"According to tribal legend, Kane said something along those lines," Askook smiled.

WTOS

The couple in question made their way up the elegant staircase. Twin doors opened to the master bedroom. They gawked at the richly, yet tastefully, decorated room.

"Wow, KP, this place is badical! I bet it has everything!"

"We've been put up in some nice places before. What I like about this one is what it doesn't have."

Ron suppressed a panic. _No, wait, she said she liked it._ "What's missing?"

"Separate beds," Kim gave Ron a look that he had never seen before. It gave him the best kind of shivers. He pulled her close for a sharp, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, she had the shivers, very, very good shivers.

"Maybe we should freshen up," she suggested.

Hormones raged. _Stop now? For a shower? Why? Waitaminute, Ron, You just finished a night of bondiggoty dancing. You've done some major sweatage. Don't want to take off your shoes and have her pass out like you're White Stripe._

"I'm with you, KP."

"Oh, you will be," she cooed. "Besides, I've been in this dress long enough. It's time I slipped into something, you know…"

Ron nodded rapidly. "Yeah, the Ronman's all about the comfortable."

Even so, it took all kinds of willpower for the two of them to let go and head for their separate bathrooms. The doors closed and each was alone.

At least for the moment.

WTOS

The head ninja shook his head. "You play a dangerous game, Sachem."

Askook shrugged. "A dangerous game, but an old one. We have never been a numerous people. Survival has always hinged upon playing one power off against another. Who cares if it is Narragansett against Pequot, French against English, or Great Old Ones against the Outer Dark?"

"Will she not seek vengeance?" another ninja asked.

"If things go as they appear to be headed, Yidhra will have more pressing matters than seeking revenge on the sad remnant of an old race. We all will."

One of the ninja, whose slight build betrayed no weakness whatsoever, directed a question at Askook. "It is hard to believe that one as subtle as you would have brought the Chosen One here without a hidden agenda."

He nodded. "True, kunoichi. We have provided the House to out of gratitude, but we also need a certain…well, favor, one rather awkward to put into words."

"Favor?" the head ninja asked sharply

"We have worked hard to reclaim this place from the darkness that had dwelt here for so long. Much pain has been suffered, but we are but one act shy of making this the Gilman House and forever removing the old name."

"Witch House," the ninja said as one.

Askook nodded. "So you know more than a little of Arkham's charming past. Then again, if tribal memory serves, this may not be your clan's first visit."

No one would answer the Sachem's observation. Instead the head ninja repeated Yamanouchi's question. "What would you have of the Chosen One and his companion?"

"As I have said earlier, we have driven the greater darkness from the ground, but shadows cling to corners of the house…"

"And you would put the Chosen One and his love at risk? Without so much as consulting them?" Tensions flared again. Weapons appeared in every hand except the Sachem, who raised his in a placating manner.

"Please, I would no more endanger those two than I would my own children. The shadows do not pose that kind of threat. If you doubt me, surely you did not come here without someone able to see into the other world?"

The ninja turned to the last member of their band. He closed his eyes for a moment. "There are some alien kami here. None could offer a threat to the Chosen One or Possible-san, but they could work great mischief to those seeking dreams and visions."

"Thus rendering the place useless to your wise ones," the head ninja tilted his head. "But why involve the young ones? Could not an exorcist accomplish what you need, and without subterfuge on your part?"

"If they could, we would not be here tonight. The spirits remaining cannot be driven out by prayers or chants or by sweet smoke."

"Then what is needed?" A ninja asked.

There may have been a note of amusement in Askooks' voice, "Ask your fair kunoichi, I'm sure she knows."

The female ninja blushed a bit, perhaps. She cast her eyes down in a demure manner that fools mistook for weakness. "It is written that perfect love casts out fear."

"Love?" her leader puzzled. Momentarily his eyes widened, and his voice mixed indignation with amusement. "You need them for THAT?!"

"But why the Chosen One and his love?" asked the last ninja. "Surely your people have willing maids enough?" There was something about Arkham that made people seek to prove their erudition.

"Remember the term your comrade used, it must be perfect love. We are a small people holding onto our traditions. That means were have a great fondness for gossip. There is no one among us who knows what is needed and what we stand to gain. It has to be someone with no agenda aside for expressing their love."

"But does not your knowledge in making the offer taint things?" the last ninja asked. "Magic can be most exacting."

"Not in this case. The nation voted after the Night of the Diablos that if we ever had the chance, we would express our gratitude to Kim Possible. The offer of the Gilman House is made with full and open hearts."

"But these kami, they will try to stop the Chosen One and his love from…" the last ninja pulled up short of any direct words for the required ritual.

"In dream and vision, that is all," the Sachem answered. "And for those who have proved their courage again and again, and who are no doubt ready to prove their love to each other, they should prove no more of a challenge than any villain they take down on a regular basis."

The ninja looked to their leader, who was lost in thought. "Your children clearly are not of age, you would not be so sanguine. Still, my ekusoshisuto says there is no direct danger, and we have been discussing this for some time. To go in now might prove…indelicate. I assume you have no objective to our continuing our duty toward the Chosen One?"

"Indeed not, I welcome the addition of such skilled guardians," Askook agreed. "Shall we deploy now?"

WTOS

Kim sat at the makeup mirror. She took the towel off of her head and admired her hair. _Still good. _The other towel she left on, until she was finished with her makeup. After all, it would not take much time to get dressed.

Whiled she hummed at the table, something moved in the dissipating steam of the shower. Part of it slipped thought the narrow space of the door jam, the rest flowed over the top. Now two forms padded across the floor and stopped behind Kim.

One does not survive dozens of missions without developing a certain set of senses. Kim stopped and look behind her. _Nothing, just a little steam. _She turned back to the mirror, and dropped her eyeliner with a start.

Two very familiar faces leered at her. Shego and Bonnie Rockwaller stood behind her, damp from the shower. Each wore a towel like she did; only theirs were done a little lower, challenging gravity.

"Look, Kimmie finally noticed us. You'd think she'd have known she wasn't alone in the shower," Shego mocked.

"Why would she?" the brunette shrugged. "It's a big shower and it's not like she takes up a lot of room. She could have had company, but like I've always said, all talk and no action. And what did I tell you? And you thought she wore some kind of constraining protective sports bra."

Shego returned Bonnie's dismissive gesture. "Hey, I was just trying to make sense of what I saw. Good thing I didn't know, it would have made things harder when facing her. I mean, I will steal candy from a baby, but I'd never hit a child."

"Child?" Kim sputtered, not one to be startled for long. "This 'child' kicked you into a transmission tower, threw you into a giant dog kennel, ferociously appropriate place for you, by the way, and has turned you over to the authorities on more than a few occasions."

"Associating maturity with violence," Bonnie clucked. "I thought only guys did that."

"In the right light, it's hard to tell she's not one," the two laughed at Shego's gibe. She went on in a more in mock pity. "That poor buffoon in the other room, thinking he'll become a man tonight."

Bonnie shared the false sympathy. "So not gonna happen. And do you know why, K?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me, B." Kim said evenly.

"Because, you know what it takes to make a boy a man, don't you?" Bonnie and Shego pulled their shoulders back, thrust their chests forward and said in mocking unison.

"A WOMAN!"

The two were no longer by themselves. Kim's mirror was filled with mocking, laughing images. _Where did all those towels come from? _The Honeys joined in the laughter.

"Don't worry, Sugah," Savannah teased. "We still intend to honor our no stealing policy. But remember, rebounds are fair game."

"And he'll bounce right off that rim!" Max joked. The others laughed cruelly.

"Put me down as interested," Mala slurred.

"And me," Lor said, trying to adjust her towel. "Do zey not have towels 'ere? Dees ees a face cloth!"

"Not me," Halle sniffed. "I don't do pro bono work, and that boy will be a charity case after tonight."

"Now, now," Marie LaTreau sidled up to the Honeys. "There may still be something there worth having."

A final figure came up behind the lot. Kim saw her own eyes looking at her, only these eyes looked out of a face that had never doubted its feminine power. Something told her the woman wore no towel, and she was very glad she could not see below those perfect shoulders.

"She thinks to win him with that display?" The voice was flawless as well.

Shego shook her head. "It's not what you've got; it's what you do with it. Ronnie will be up for a major disappointment. I've known plenty of her type."

The villainess brought her hands together as if in prayer and gazed Heavenward. "Passion is never their fashion."

Pitiless laughter filled the room. "I never knew you could get cold fish from the Great Plains!" someone joked.

The eyeliner trembled in Kim's hand. _I've heard all of this before…why am I letting it get to me now? _She looked at the figures in the mirror. _There's nobody behind me, just some steam rolling in the air. You're letting things get to you. _Kim thought of the boy, the man, waiting for her in the next room. _He's never said anything like that. He's never demanded anything I wouldn't give. They're just images…images of insecurity that Ron's always helped me overcome. It's no wonder I love him!_

The cackling stopped. Kim looked up at the mirror, and Shego pulled back. She knew that look; it generally preceded a great deal of pain. The thief's fear was infectious.

The redhead spoke. "I love him. He loves me. That's what's real, NOT you!"

There was no one behind her, just a whiff of steam that vanished with what Kim would have sworn was a whimper. Kim took a deep breath and smiled. _Let's get ready._

WTOS

Ron pulled the belt to his bathrobe tight and looked in the had showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. _I am ready._

_Really? Really? _A voice not his own whispered in his mind, causing Ron to look around.

"Yes, really," he answered to no one in particular.

_Oh, I bet, _the voice returned. _You're ready all right. How many times were you ready when you saw the girls dressed for summer?_

"No fair, that's an autonomic response. Besides, they were just reminding me of KP."

_Sure, right, _came the caustic reply. _Get real. In that little brain that's running the show righ not, there's no difference between her or any other girl. ANY other girl. If that Marie LaTreau was in the other room, you'd be just as ready._

"Not true! KP is special!"

_Special enough to ask?_

"Huh?" the question caught Ron completely off guard.

_Did you ask if she wanted this? You just presumed she's willing to give herself up for a coupon-free dinner and a dance. _

"I never assumed that," Ron answered hotly, then he sighed. "But I didn't ask either."

The voice changed, becoming less accusing. _And why would you? You're not some wuss from Antioch College, having to ask permission to hold hands, or kiss. You're a Miski Man! And you know what a man does, don't you?_

"I'm sure you'll tell me."

_A man doesn't ask…he takes! That's what she really wants. It's what all women want. It's what Tara wanted all those times she stood next to you. That's what Zita wanted when she looked impatient with you. Yori was as open about it as her kind can be. And Bonnie…_

"Bonnie? Bonnie Rockwaller?"

_Her type especially want that…why do you think she was always so abusive? It was a challenge! Kim's the same. Every time she rolls her eyes at you, it's because she's wondering when you'll man up! Here's your chance. When she comes through that door, take her! No questions, no lame words, just be a man!_

The blood pounded in Ron's head. It was similar to the times he had touched the Mystical Monkey Power. His hands balled up into fists. Suddenly he heard another voice in his head, dredged up by memory. _Son, the question is not if you're a man, it's what kind of man are you?_

His pause made the other voice roar with contempt. _Oh, Please! You aren't going to listen to that load of…_ The voice cut off with the urgency of someone who realizes that he has made a fatal blunder.

Ron closed his eyes. His hair stirred as if in a slight breeze. When he opened his eyes again, they were all blue. The calm in his voice was terrifying. "Whoever you are, whatever you are, get lost and stay lost."

For an instant the room was bathed in a blue light. Something seemed to reel in that glow, then Ron was alone again.

The Miski Man took a deep breath. His father's question demanded an answer, and he could only give it by asking a question of his own. He stepped over to Kim's door.

"Uh, KP?"

"Yes, Ron?" something in her voice made his heart sing. _Still…_

"I'm sorry about tonight."

"About the island? Like I said, it's no big."

"No, it's not about the island, though I'm sorry my plans didn't work out. It's about, well, this part…which was planned for the island too. I should have asked you."

"But you did. You were very formal about it. Quite proper." She teased.

"About the dance, yes. But I didn't ask you about, you know. I mean…" he rubbed the back of his neck, "…you deserve a chance to tell me…"

The door opened, and though it did not change the lighting in the room in any way, Ron had to blink. Kim's smile was dazzling. Her eyes sparkled. Her face glowed. Ron recognized the color of her nightie. It was the exact shade of blue as the dress she wore to the Junior Prom. Only now the material was sheer, and underneath she was…was…oh, was she ever.

"Ron," she said as she walked up to him, "this is my way of telling you."

He caught her up in his arms. The kiss had the urgency he had intended to show her that day she had been released from a literal stone cold death, but Hana had nixed that. This time, there was no one to interfere. When her let her lips go, Kim was wobbly.

"Ron," she gasped, "Captain, oh, my Captain!"

Before he could kiss her again, she raised something in her right hand. A press on the small remote and the lights dimmed. A song played, the first song they had ever danced to.

I know we've been friends forever  
But now I think I'm feeling something totally new  
And after all this time I opened up my eyes  
Now I see you were always with me

Could it be you & I Never imagined  
Could it be suddenly I'm fallin' for you  
Could it be you were right here beside me and I never knew  
Could it be that it's true  
It's you and it's you

It's kinda funny you were always near  
But who would ever thought we'd end up here  
And everytime I need you, you've been there for me  
Now it's clear I've been waiting for you

Could it be you & I never imagined

Could it be suddenly I'm fallin' for you

Could it be you were right here beside me and I never knew

Could it be that it's true

It's you and it's you

'Cause today is the start of the rest of our lives  
I can see it in your eyes  
And it's real, and it's true  
It's just me and you  
Could it be that it's you

They danced to their song, letting feelings and memories wash over them. Already they had a lifetime of memories. While there was no way to know the future, they had the night, and new memories to make and to cherish.

When the music stopped, Ron picked Kim up.

WTOS

Askook Weatherford took up his post in the garden. His men would patrol the grounds, while the ninja disappeared into the trees and onto the roof of the Gilman House. There would be no sneaking past them.

He took a small glass vial out of his coast and removed the cork. Once production issues were resolved, this would set the energy drink world on its ear. He downed the contents, and was ready for the night.

Traditional weapons rested on the blanket before him. Bow and arrow, throwing knives and a war club, all bore the Elder Sign. Protection against more mundane foes rested in a shoulder holster.

Something else lay beside the weapons. The reed flute called to him. It was late, but this was sacred ground, and the neighbors did not object to the soft music that often came from the garden at night. The Gilman House itself was well insulated; he would not disturb the two inside. He brought the instrument up to his lips and played a few notes.

From somewhere on the roof, notes floated down in reply. He smiled. _So, kunoichi, that was not a mere blow gun thrust into your obi. _He picked up the tune again. As they had never played together before, he was tentative, hoping the tune was simple enough for them to manage. There were rough spots, inexperience will tell. Still, it was a most pleasant duet, one he hoped would be repeated.

Before too long, the girl initiated another song.


End file.
